Mate Claimed

CHAPTER TWENTY

In the darkness of the night, Eric sat at the foot of his bed and touched the match to the last candle on the small table in front of him. The glow of candles surrounded the framed photograph of Kirsten, Eric’s mate.

The photo had been taken more than thirty years ago, before digital cameras. The image was slightly yellowed, the paper shiny and stiff.

Eric and Kirsten had been walking along a loch on a rare sunny day in northern Scotland. She’d turned, laughing, and Eric had snapped her picture. Not long after that, Kirsten had discovered she was carrying her first cub, Jace.

In the photo, the wind and sun played in Kirsten’s golden hair, her smile as warm as when Eric had first seen it. They’d both been excited and eager for life—by the time the photo had been taken, they’d started giving up on ever having young. The weekend by the loch had been a magical time.

The other thing on the table was a tiny stuffed leopard, black and gold, like Kirsten.

Eric dropped the spent match into an ashtray, rested his hands on his knees, and drew a long breath. Meditation and prayer were supposed to calm him, but Eric searched in vain for calmness.

He’d spent the bulk of the afternoon and evening helping Graham settle the new wolves. The ones that had been kidnapped had woken groggy, scared, and cranky. They hadn’t wanted to see Eric, a Feline, in their midst, but he’d waded in, with Cassidy and Jace, and tried to soothe their fears.

Graham, Eric had seen, was a good leader. He knew how to get his Shifters to do what was needed without bullying them. He had crude strength but common sense, and his wolves followed him willingly. They didn’t mindlessly obey but looked to him for guidance.

Eric wasn’t about to bow out and relinquish Shiftertown to him, but he admitted that Graham knew what he was doing. Leading wasn’t just about dominating everything in your path, and Graham appeared to know that.

At least the Lupines were settling down in their temporary quarters together, unpacking, beginning the adjustment. Eric had sent all his Felines home, gulped down a meal Diego and Jace put together, and retreated here.

To think.

His thoughts roiled and spun, the hunger in him uncontrollable.

He knew Iona had rejected his mate-claim only to stay ahead of Graham in the Shifter game—she hadn’t seen it as an emotional decision, but one to expedite things. Hell, Eric had told her that the mate-claim was a convenience, to protect her from other Shifters while Eric decided what to do.

What a liar he was.

But Iona’s rejection had kicked the Shifter in him in the gut. The beast wanted Eric to go after Iona and carry her home by the scruff of her neck, or roar in an onslaught of pain. The big, bad Shifter leader had been brought down by a half-human Shifter with eyes the color of a deep Scottish loch.

He traced the outline of Kirsten’s face. “I miss you.”

Eric knew what he had to do, and he wanted Kirsten, somehow, to know.

She smiled, understanding.

The door opened so softly Eric barely heard it. Cassidy sat down next to him on the foot of the bed, her warm weight rolling against him. She looked at the photo of Kirsten, touched the little stuffed leopard, and breathed a prayer of her own.

“She would have liked Iona,” Cassidy said.

Eric nodded and didn’t answer.

“I think it’s the right thing to do,” Cass went on.

Eric let out a faint laugh. “I told Iona that I wanted to bring her in for her own protection, to keep her safe until she learned how to be Shifter. That’s total bullshit, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” His sister nodded. “You saw her, you said, Goddess, she’s hot, and you tried to figure out how to get her into your bed.”

Eric flicked his fingers over the nape of his neck. “Somewhere in the back of my brain.”

“I’d say it was pretty much in the front of your brain. You haven’t consummated anything yet though, no matter that she’s spent the night in here a couple times. I’d know. No wonder you’re twitchy.”

“Mmph. Shifters don’t understand the meaning of privacy, do they?”

“Not in this family.” Cassidy ran her fingers through Eric’s short hair and kissed him above his ear. “Go, Eric. You deserve a little happiness. Goddess knows you’ve given up so much of it for the rest of us. Jace thinks so too.” She smiled. “Well, what he said was: When is Dad going to bring Iona home for good and get this done? He’s driving us all crazy.”

“Sounds like Jace.” Eric rested his hand on Cassidy’s knee. “I didn’t want to go without saying good-bye.”

Cassidy knew he didn’t mean to her or Jace. “It’s never good-bye when you had the mate bond. She’ll still always be a part of us.”

She would. Eric touched Kirsten’s face again, then he and Cassidy blew out the candles.

The hunger was controlling her now. Iona paced the downstairs rooms of her house, shaking, sweating, and hoping like hell she could hold herself together.

She’d done pretty well at the office while her mother demanded Iona tell her everything that had happened over the last few days. Her mother had listened, both alarmed and angry.

“So what are you going to do?” Penny had asked.

“I don’t know.” Iona’s hunger had started to flare, and she’d known she needed to get out of that office and home where she wouldn’t hurt anyone. “I can’t keep it secret that I’m Shifter forever. Eric says he can fix the records to show I’ve always been Shifter, always been part of Shiftertown. I didn’t believe him before, but now that I’ve been there, and I’ve seen…”

She’d closed her mouth, knowing she couldn’t betray the Shifters’ secret places under their houses and what they kept there, not even to her mother. Not yet.

“I think they can do it,” Iona finished.

Penny’s eyes filled. “I just don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t.” Iona put her arms around the smaller woman. “No matter what, you won’t.”

Penny’s hugs had always been able to comfort her. Not today. Iona was restless and worried, feeling trapped. She hadn’t been this way in Shiftertown—her hungers had been somewhat abated there.

What had Eric done to her? Addicted her to Shifters?

But, no, this restlessness had begun before she’d met Eric, starting with what she now knew was called her Transition. She’d survived that only to have her frenzies flare again with mating hunger. If Eric hadn’t found her that night in Coolers, she’d by now either be a puddle of quivering goo, or else out in the woods as a panther, unable to remember how to be human.

Iona had gone home after that, eaten everything in her refrigerator, and started on what was in the freezer. She stared at the low-calorie frozen meals she’d bought a few weeks ago, thinking herself virtuous. She couldn’t believe her stupidity.

Snarling, Iona hauled all the boxes out of the freezer and threw them into the garbage.

No, wait. The spaghetti ones were pretty good. She grabbed all the spaghetti and tomato sauce dinner boxes back out of the trash, ripped them open, scraped them all into a bowl, and popped the bowl in the microwave. She waited impatiently for the stuff to heat up, then she gulped down the entire bowl of pasta, the red sauce sliding down to ruin her pristine white shirt.

Not enough. Iona tossed the empty bowl—which she’d licked clean—into the sink, tore off her sauce-stained clothes, showered, brushed her teeth, and dressed again in sweats and a tank top.

There. Civilized.

And still starving. Iona walked back through the dark house, not bothering with the lights. She could order pizza again, but she worried about what she’d do to the guy who brought it, in the state she was in.

She called Eric. He didn’t answer. She knew he’d walked out of the office without saying good-bye because he was protecting her from Kellerman. He didn’t want Kellerman to know Iona was anything to him, that he even noticed her in the room. Iona knew that, and still felt empty.

Iona threw the phone down. She shivered, so hungry. She had to get out.

And then he was there. Eric came out of the shadows of her back hall while Iona was reaching for her keys. She didn’t bother wondering how he’d gotten in. Eric always found a way.

Without a word, Eric took the keys from her fingers and dropped them on the table, then he flowed against her, and their mouths met.

Eric twined his fingers through hers, lifting their hands out to their sides, and turned slowly with her as though they danced. All the while he kissed her in silence, his mouth a place of heat.

Their bodies fused, her sweatpants thin enough that she could feel his hardness in his jeans. She loved the ridge of it against her, remembered the feel of it in her hand, wanted it inside her.

“Eric,” she whispered.

He caught the word on his lips. He opened her mouth and explored it in long, sultry strokes of his tongue, licking, then nipping. He still wore his leather coat, the scent of it mixing with his musk and his taste.

Eric drew their twined hands up between them, releasing her mouth to transfer hot, slow kisses to her fingers.

“Be my mate,” he said. “Sun and moon. Say yes.” He sucked the tip of her middle finger into his mouth. “I’m dying for you, Iona.”

She was dying for him. “You want me to be Shifter.”

“You are Shifter. Experience it with me, at my side.”

“I want…” Heat and frustration warred within in her. “I don’t know what I want.”

“It doesn’t matter. I need you.” Eric touched his face to hers. “It’s killing me.”

“Yes.” Iona let out a breath. “Eric, I’m so hungry.”

Her frustration came out as a growl. Eric growled in response. He took a step back, shed his jacket, and stripped off his shirt.

“Feast on me,” he said.

Iona just looked at him at first, letting his beauty fill her senses. The faint glow from the kitchen touched his body, his muscles a play of light and shadow, his eyes jade green in the darkness.

Looking wasn’t enough. Iona’s hands went to his bare torso, firm muscle under her fingertips. Hard pectorals, strong shoulders, tight biceps. She traced his tattoo, her mouth watering with the desire to lick it.

The world took on a slightly reddish tint, the walls around them concave, and she knew her eyes had become the Shifter’s. She growled again, the beast’s snarl in her throat.

Iona didn’t want to hurt him. She started to lift her hands away, fearing they’d sprout claws and gouge him, but Eric grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands back to him. His own eyes turned Shifter, with cat slits, his animal growl echoing hers.

Feast on me.

Iona bent her head, his hands still around her wrists, and washed the lines of his tatt with her tongue. His skin tasted salty, the ink lines smooth. She wound her way up the painted lines, across his bicep to his shoulder.

Now she wanted to bite. Iona moved her mouth to the skin between Eric’s shoulder and neck, and sucked a fold between her teeth.

He made a raw sound in his throat. Iona started to pull back, fearing she’d hurt him, but Eric slid his hand to her neck and pulled her to him again. “Slake the hunger. That’s why I’m here.”

Iona let out a sigh of need and suckled harder. He tasted good, so good. Iona felt her fingers become the cat’s claws, and her teeth sharpened.

Hungry. Mate. Mine.

“Iona…” It was a whisper, his hand strong on the nape of her neck. She felt him rock his head back, heard his intake of breath. “Goddess, you are good to me.”

His hard-on was rigid against her sweatpants, making Iona’s blood sear. She drew her hands down his chest, seeing that she’d already scratched him with her claws, and ripped open his belt.

Within seconds she had his jeans unbuttoned and the zipper down. Iona pushed his underwear out of the way and happily closed her hands around his cock.

The weight of it in her hands, the warm hardness, made her hungrier than ever. Iona squeezed both fists around his cock while she licked the bite marks she’d left on his shoulder.

Eric undid the drawstring of her sweats and thrust his hands inside, making a noise of satisfaction when he found she hadn’t bothered with underwear. He dipped one hand between her legs, fingers sinking into her heat.

Iona hummed in delight while she continued licking, biting, suckling his neck, the metallic taste of the Collar blending with the heat of his skin. She closed her eyes when he slid a finger inside her, the slim but firm thrust making her arch against him.

She had to have him. No more playing. Iona opened her eyes and raised her head, the Shifter in her in no way dismayed to see the line of red bruises she’d left from his shoulder to neck, even with the few dots of blood.

My mark. He’s mine.

Eric’s eyes were half-closed in pleasure. His hand went again to the nape of her neck, holding her in place while he pressed a second finger inside her.

Iona ripped herself away from him. He stared in surprise, then gave her a slow smile as he raised his fingers to his lips and licked them clean.

Iona’s informal family room was only a few steps from the hall, the high-backed leather sofa that faced the fireplace only a few paces more. Iona pushed Eric backward to it. He kicked out of the jeans and underwear pooling around his feet and caught Iona’s shirt at the same time, lifting it off over her head.

Iona hadn’t bothered with a bra either, finding the band too itchy and confining. Cool air caressed her skin but couldn’t stop the burning.

She pushed Eric again. “On the back.”

Eric waited a beat, as though wondering what she meant, then he gave her a savage smile and swung one leg over the high back of the sofa. His knee bent, strong foot resting on the sofa cushions, the other leg tight where he braced himself against the floor.

Iona shivered in delight. Eric was naked, liquid gold skin slick with sweat, his cock hard and tight, against the leather of her sofa. Iona slid off her sweatpants, now as naked as he. She held Eric’s shoulders to steady herself and swung up to straddle the sofa’s back, facing him.

Eric’s grin set his green eyes sparkling. “I’m glad I taught you how to ride on the back of my bike.”

This would be even sexier on his motorcycle, the sudden thought flashed through Iona’s head. Next time.

She clutched his shoulders, hands turning to claws again. “Tell me what to do.”

Eric’s smile vanished. “You sure? I’m big.”

“I’m not small—for a human. I want you, Eric. I need you.”

“Lift up a little,” he said.

Iona rocked forward, and Eric slid his hands under her thighs. He leaned back, strong body bracing, until his cock stood up between them. He scooted her forward, still holding her, until she was poised above him.

Then he let her go. Iona stood on tiptoe on one side, her foot feeling the pull, her other foot comfortable on the sofa’s cushions. Eric’s tip brushed the opening between her legs, her wetness there making her dizzy with heat.

“Join with me,” Eric whispered, urgent.

He didn’t reach for her. He braced one hand on the sofa cushion, the other on his thigh. He’d let Iona do this herself.

Because he was afraid of hurting her. The tenderness of that made Iona want him all the more.

Iona closed her eyes as she lowered herself the last inch separating them.

The sound that came out of her mouth as Eric’s cock flowed inside her was primal. She’d never felt anything like it—hot, large, pushing her, spreading her, opening her.

Eric’s groan was loud in the silence, and she opened her eyes. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Just like that.” His jaw went tight as his head rocked back. “Just. Like. That.”

Iona had no awareness of anything but him solidly inside her, the point where her existence began. She rocked her hips, which drove him another inch deeper and dragged another groan from him.

“Goddess.”

It didn’t hurt. Iona had thought it would hurt, though in her frenzy, she hadn’t cared. But, no, this wasn’t pain. It was freedom. Eric penetrated her, opening and stretching. She felt full, ecstatic, and she shuddered.

The wild burning in her skin that had made her so itchy lessened, draining downward to where they joined. The heat was incandescent there, a hard ache. Sweat filmed her skin, the night air finally cooling her.

Eric smiled up at her, his teeth pointed like his leopard’s, but his eyes warm. “You are beautiful, my Iona.”

Her sexy, naked Shifter, laid out for her pleasure. His Collar gleamed in the moonlight through the windows, the band of silver and black the only thing he wore.

Iona skimmed hands over his body, her tongue swiping her lips. “Hungry,” she whispered.

“I know, sweetheart.”

The snarling in her stomach turned to a different kind of hunger. Eric was all the way inside her, but Iona wanted him deeper. She wanted all of him, everything he had to give her.

She needed it. Iona rocked her hips, pushing down. Eric steadied her, showing her how to move. This, this…

The rhythm began, and Iona’s thoughts dissolved. The panther in her gave a satisfied growl, the female happy finally to have a mate.

And what a mate. Eric was a beautiful man—strong, powerful, gentle, and protective. The perfect catch.

Eric’s body balanced effortlessly on the sofa as he held her steady. His mouth twisted with his pleasure, his eyes halfclosed to watch her.

Iona’s rhythm rocked her on him, the ache inside her unbearable. At the same time, she never wanted it to stop. Never stop, never stop…

Eric’s thoughts had ceased being coherent as soon as she’d slid down onto him. He felt her heat close around him—perfect. He was exactly where he belonged, inside this woman, his mate.

It had been so long since he’d found this kind of completeness. Hell, since he’d felt this good about anything.

Her rocking motion made her breasts sway, the nipples dark little points. She squeezed without realizing she did it, drawing him farther into her. Deeper, deeper. They were one, joined, bonded, to hell with ceremonies.

Iona. Love. Keep me inside you, forever.

Her fingers were firm points against his chest. Her claws had receded, but her fingertips were strong. He loved that she wasn’t afraid of him, was ready to take anything he gave her.

Eric’s hips rose with her rhythm, the cool back of the couch an exciting contrast to the absolute, tight heat inside her. He liked the way her waist curved in a bit, belly a little soft above her rounded hips, a woman lush enough to take him.

And strong enough. Iona was no weak human. She was a beautiful Shifter woman, and she was winding up Eric’s frenzy at the same time as she was relieving it.

Eric wanted her now, and he wanted her always. It would never be enough.

His body burned, the hottest part where he pushed inside her. Iona rocked down, down, and Eric pressed up. He was shuddering now, sweat coating his body, his hands locked around Iona’s wrists.

His cock reached higher into her, as high as it could, trapped by her wet, slick, tight sheath. He moved in slow, gentle thrusts, liking the way her face softened. Then he moved faster, his cock so hard it hurt. The wiry curls around her opening tickled, sweet contrast to the need to pump and pump and never stop.

Eric arched back, his naked body slick against the sofa. She made soft, female noises, mixed with wildcat growls, as she rode him, her breasts swinging, her hair snaking down to tangle around her nipples.

A shout tore from his lips as Eric’s seed shot into her, her cry echoing his. He closed hands around her hips, holding them together, his instinctive need to fill his mate making him thrust and thrust again.

Iona cried his name, her voice ringing through the night, laughing with tears running down her face.

Warm tendrils wound through Eric’s heart, trapping him with unbearable strength. Tears wet his own eyes as he held her, their intense frenzy spiraling down to easy little thrusts.

Eric knew he was bonded to her in more ways than one, body and soul, and there was nothing he could do about it.