Omega Mine

Chapter Ten

Diskant stopped the bike in front of a building in West Village. The large window below the vintage Dougan’s Bar sign revealed everything just inside. There was a large bar with stools and a few tables were lined up just along the glass. Even from where she sat, Ava knew the patrons were shifters. Their movements were too powerful, their eyes—which turned the moment Diskant pulled to the curb to study them—too alert.

The motor went silent and she took a deep breath, struggling for control. The last hours had been the most bizarre of her life. She couldn’t decide if she should be frightened or angry at being bossed around and accosted by men with guns. Not when her body continued to crave a solid fucking, as if she truly were no more than a dog in heat.

She grimaced at the comparison but accepted the truth.

With Diskant, everything was primal and raw—her feelings, her reactions, her desires. It was as if she were evolving in some way, becoming someone or something else. Never had chemistry played such a role in her decisions. If she was being honest with herself, she knew that nothing she had done in the last twenty-four hours qualified as rational. Something else was calling the shots, setting the pace, liberating her from a timid mousy novice to a fearless tigress.

The terror she’d felt as she stared down the barrel of the weapon had changed the moment Diskant put her behind him, shielding her from harm. She’d reacted instinctively, reaching out with her mind, seeking the barest essentials from the armed men who looked like they’d jumped straight out of a cheesy Western. They’d been angry, searching for someone who had wronged their congregation, although it had been impossible to take the proper time to explore the path of their thoughts any further.

Seconds established which was the leader of the group—Elijah, the tallest one, who addressed them—and she’d immediately formulated a plan to have him lower his weapon and instruct the others to do the same. It would have been dangerous and was sure to have been tricky. The others could have questioned his orders, and if they had, there would have been no way she could have manipulated the thoughts of all of them. Adding to that had been the armed entourage that Elijah had silently signaled from across the street, their insurance plan if things went to hell in a handbasket.

Thankfully, her talent hadn’t been necessary. Her street was safe due to the patrol that combed the area hourly. For once she was grateful she paid a little bit extra and lived in Brooklyn Heights. When she’d seen the police car, she’d wanted to sag in relief and demand the city give them a raise for the service they provided.

Her only regret in the aftermath was allowing her alarm to shadow a greater need—to learn exactly what it was they wanted. Although now she was fairly certain she was due to find out.

Diskant shifted his weight and rocked the bike to the side to engage the kickstand, and she let go of his waist. A laughable amount of propriety saw her climbing off the seat without his assistance. She removed the helmet and ruffled her hair, unwilling to meet his eyes as she felt the stares of the shifter patrons inside the bar boring holes into her back.

What must they think? She wasn’t one of them and yet she was riding on the back of the motorcycle owned by their Omega. The shifters at Club Liminality were always cordial but never overly friendly. There was an invisible line that always existed, an understanding that either you belonged among them or you didn’t. Maybe there was a reason for that. Perhaps the incident at the bar with the newly bloodbonded couple was an indication of what happened when you decided to mate outside the species.

For a moment she visualized the woman cradled in the shifter’s arms that night at Liminality months ago. Her dark hair was slick with sweat, and her skin-tight cream-colored camisole was soaked with blood. The look in her eyes was dazed, her lips almost purple. Her skin had been so pale she looked near to death.

When Diskant extended a hand to take the helmet from her quaking hands, she wasn’t prepared when his fingers circled her wrist instead. She lifted her head and glimpsed the wounded look in his eyes, saw the hurt in his face.

“Don’t be afraid of me.” His voice was hoarse, the words raspy. “Don’t be afraid of us.”

The fear and uncertainty suffocating her was replaced by the need to reassure and comfort. Like a switch had been flicked, exorcising the darkness that shadowed her thoughts, there was nothing else in that moment but her and Diskant. The spectators vanished, as did the vehicles and pedestrians on the sidewalk.

“I’m not,” she answered, slightly stunned that she was telling him the truth. She wasn’t afraid of him. Her uncertainty arose from the unknown, from entering into something that left her blind and unaware.

“I didn’t want it to happen like this.” He smiled when she peered up at him curiously. Wrapping a hand around her nape, he explained, “When I woke up this morning I wanted to shower you with affection for the rest of the day. I had it all planned. Breakfast in bed followed by a round or two of sex and as much time as you needed to talk things through.”

The mere mentions of “bedroom” and “sex” caused her body to go warm. She’d started to say something when he yanked her into his chest and his mouth covered hers. His taste was intoxicating, so rich and unforgettable. She ran her hand along his jacket before sliding it under the leather until her palm rested on the firm pectoral muscle covered by thin black cotton.

She’d never truly thought about just how fortunate inanimate objects were until that moment. First it was the fork. Now it was a thin T-shirt.

He ripped his lips away, snagged her duffel, took her hand and pulled her toward the bar. He didn’t stop to explain and she didn’t argue. They entered and the people in their path moved aside as if they were already well aware of the score. Diskant led them down a hall and entered an empty office. As soon as they were inside he closed the door, tossed her bag to the ground and turned a lock. She mirrored him, plopping the helmet beside the duffel.

There were no words. One moment she was standing beside him, shivering in anticipation. The next she was bent over the desk, her shoes, jeans and panties gone, leaving her lower half naked and entirely vulnerable to the two-hundred-plus pounds of sexed male directly behind her.

Somewhere in the back of her mind her all-but-forgotten modesty reminded her that there were people outside in the bar, all of whom were probably aware of what she was doing. Strangely enough, she told that part of herself to zip it and leave well enough alone. Finally she was going to ease the unrelenting madness. She wanted to feel the heat of his skin against her, the firm, unrelenting length and width of his cock inside her.

“You’re so beautiful.” He pressed his chest into her back, forcing her to lie flat on the desk.

She remained there when he rose and she felt his hands cup her ass, his fingers curving over and carving a path along her skin, leaving tendrils of electricity in their wake. A quick swipe of the tip of his cock along the lips of her sex and he was pressing inside, that hard ridge of velvet steel spreading and filling her until she rose on her toes to take him deeper. Like this, she felt as if they were truly connected, in a way she’d never been before.

Diskant groaned and rolled his hips. “Damn, you feel good.”

Gripping the edge of the desk, she pushed back as he moved forward until all she could hear was the steady slap of skin meeting skin. The softness of his sac slapped her clit, creating new, dizzying waves of pleasure. She shifted slightly to the left and felt him stroke the spot inside that made her crazy, the wide length pressing against her until she welcomed the intense burning in her belly that signified ecstasy was close.

The room spun as he pulled free and turned her around. She wrapped her arms around his neck when he cupped her hips and lifted her until her legs were situated snugly around his waist. A smooth thrust joined them once more and he carried her to the nearest wall. His hand came down and plucked her clit, his index finger and thumb heightening her ecstasy with exquisite, expert touches.

“You like that?” His expression was one of passion as his thrusts continued, and his voice was distorted and thick.

“Yes,” she whispered and watched the muscles rope and cord in his neck as he supported her weight, adjusting her so that he went deeper and deeper.

A firm yank sent her into his chest and she lapped at the visible skin along his shoulder before pulling at the leather jacket to reveal more tanned flesh. She teased the surface with tiny nips of her teeth. An encompassing heat spread through her from belly to pussy. The impulse to bite and mark him as her own was too powerful to ignore and she chose the fleshy spot that connected the neck and shoulder. She bathed the area with her tongue, cleansing his skin, and pulled her lips back as her teeth sank deep.

His hoarse, elated cry as she bit down was accompanied by a metallic bitterness on her tongue. She bit harder in response, forcing her dull incisors and canines into the giving flesh, driven by the taste of blood and the smells of sweat and sex. An unrecognizable growl rose in her throat, as if she contained an animal of her own beneath her skin. She rotated her hips, pressing against him until he was lodged so deeply inside that he felt as if he was a part of her.

“Fuck, yes.” Diskant continued thrusting as he mirrored her and claimed the unmarked side of her neck. His teeth sank deep and she felt her body begin to peak, that delicious warmth spreading from her womb beyond.

Then things went terribly wrong.

Pain radiated from her bones, her head, her limbs, her everything. It felt as if molten lava were trapped beneath her skin, blistering hot and boiling its way from the inside out. She relinquished her hold on his neck and cried out, agonized by the feel of his skin, his touch too much to bear. It felt like a thousand needles plunging into the skin in all the places they touched and her eyes and ears began to sting as if they were being stabbed by shards of ice.

“Stop,” she begged pitifully and closed her eyes. Tears streamed down her cheeks, forming salty trails to her chin.

Yet it didn’t stop, it worsened until she thought she’d rather die than suffer the pain any longer. The endless waves of fire in the pit of her stomach felt like a blowtorch. The breeze from the overhead ceiling fan sent waves of coolness against her bare skin that were almost too brutal to endure. The cashmere sweater she’d always adored was suddenly as coarse and rough as a Brillo pad, chafing and scratching her arms, back and stomach.

Scents took over—earth, water and forest—and then she felt an odd brush under her skin, as if something soft and velvety wanted to press through and out. The texture changed from soft to dense, from silky to coarse, as if she were being tormented by fur, skin, feather and hide. She thrashed against Diskant, unable to hold her head upright. Each new wave through her muscles was replaced by a different one, each blessedly faster and less painful that the one before.

She was aware of Diskant whispering something, promising everything would be all right as she wept uncontrollably. The pain slowly dimmed until she was able to breathe again. The agony in her eyes, ears and skin dissipated, leaving her a shivering mass in his embrace. She blinked back the wet tears on her lashes, wondering if she was dreaming.

What in the hell just happened?

“Diskant?”

“It’s over, Ava mine.” His expression was harsh and his eyes flashed oddly, going from amber, to emerald, to silver.

“What happened? What was that?”

He shook his head and slowly pulled away from her until only the tip of his cock was embedded in her pussy. Just as carefully pushed back inside. Even with new and strangely sensitized skin there was no pain now, only pleasure. Again he withdrew and returned—harder this time. With each thrust, thoughts of what transpired fled, replaced by newer, better memories.

“Stop distracting me.” She contradicted her request by arching her hips, taking him deeper. “It’s not fair.”

“Can’t help it.” He increased the pace.

“Diskant…”

Logic told her this was insane. She’d just suffered something she couldn’t explain and she was willing to let it slide because of this new inner calling that demanded she take him into her body, claim his seed, mark him as her own…

“Come with me, baby.” He ignored the worry in her voice and the question in her eyes. His clawed fingers dug into her hips, guiding her into a crazed rhythm. “You need this and so do I.”

He bucked his pelvis and she ground against him. Release was so close, all she had to do was reach out, take hold and claim it. She wrapped her arms around Diskant’s neck and allowed him to set the pace, relying on his strength, trusting he would be the one to take them there.

They climaxed together, his cry deep and hoarse, hers soft and muted. The tension left over from the odd ordeal disappeared, muscles going soft, leaving her sated and content. She reveled in the way he felt inside her, basking in the rightness of his weight against her, the heaviness just enough to keep her trapped but not so much that she couldn’t breathe.

She lifted her head and was stunned to find a still-oozing bite at his neck—with visible teeth marks. Slowly, the sounds coming from the club registered. She waited for panic or embarrassment at engaging in sex inside a very public place, but surprisingly, none came.

“You’re like a drug,” he murmured into her ear before nipping the lobe. “So damned addictive that no matter what I do I can’t get enough.”

“It’s your fault, not mine.” Frowning at the stark mark on his tanned skin, she asked, “What have you done to me?”

The question got an immediate, jolting reaction. Diskant froze, his chest going still as he held his breath. Suddenly the muscles against her weren’t yielding but as hard as stone, the weight keeping her trapped against the wall becoming ten times heavier.

After a tense moment, he said, “We need to talk,” withdrew from her body, and placed her on unsteady feet. The loss of his presence was more than physical. It was as if he’d blocked off another part of himself as well.

Confused and embarrassed, she’d bent down to retrieve her things when he asked, “How do you know about shifters?”

After everything that had transpired she wasn’t sure what she’d expected but it certainly wasn’t this. Anger came then, glorious and ball-breaking in its intensity.

“After everything that’s happened, don’t you think I should be the one asking the questions?”

He lifted his head, fingers motionless over the fastenings of his leathers. It dawned on her then that they were both half clothed inside a bar that catered to shifters, having had explosive sex where everyone could not only hear them, but could probably smell them as well. Not to mention she still had no idea what in the hell was going on, and Diskant seemed to constantly be directing her thoughts to pleasurable pursuits that distracted her from thinking about anything else.

“There is a room full of shifters out there waiting for an answer to that question,” he finally said. “I need to know what to tell them.”

“Well, isn’t that sweet? Looking out for your fellow furry friends,” she replied in a cool, jaded tone. “If only the rest of us were given the same courtesy.”

“Damn it, Ava,” he growled and readjusted his shirt. “There isn’t time for this.”

She separated her panties from the jeans and pulled them on, well aware of the wetness dripping from her sex as a result of his seed and her release. She went still for a moment, struck dumb by a thought that both frightened and excited her. For the first time, she considered something she should have thought of from the start, especially when you weighed the nature of their relationship thus far.

Could a human and shifter procreate? Was it possible to get pregnant? She’d always wanted children, had hoped that one day she’d have three or four of her own. Was it possible to have a family with someone like Diskant?

Like everything else, the notion was placed to the side. A complication that her overly stimulated body and mind stored away for another, more fucked-up time.

Furious with herself for being concerned about things she couldn’t change after the fact, she quipped, “But there is always time to fuck, right?

The breath caught in her throat and she gasped when he crossed the distance, grabbed her by the arms and held her against the wall. The barrier erected between them was obliterated and she was aware of several things, but it was one—and only one—thing she perceived that both terrified and exhilarated her.

She was aware of Diskant for the first time.

Even though he had her pinned against the wall, it was concern—not contempt—that had caused him to place physical, emotional and mental distance between them.

He was scared for her, worried he had pushed her too far.

He knew it was too soon to give her the second mark, but god help him, the moment he’d felt her teeth against his throat he had never wanted anything more and he hadn’t wanted to stop her from tasting his blood. The moment she reminded him of what he’d done—staring at him with her enormous blue eyes full of confusion and hurt—guilt had hit like a freight train.

He wanted to reassure her, to take her somewhere they could be alone and talk. But damn it to hell, he had to meet Trey and Emory to find out what the fuck was going on. Some serious shit was going down and he didn’t want his mate anywhere near it.

His mate.

Ava mine.

Each thought was crystal clear, as crisp and detailed as if he’d spoken aloud.

Jesus Christ and shit.

She could read him.

Diskant fought an inner war with himself, desperate to ease his mate yet forced to see to those waiting for him just outside. Never had he regretted his status as Omega or wished to be just another shifter in the big wide fucking world. It was a tremendous responsibility he always respected and honored. Obligation, however, was a bitch of a mistress when you had to put others before yourself and the needs of your mate.

The moment they’d entered Dougan’s, he’d known the pack understood his need for privacy. Newly bonded pairs were always unstable at the beginning, their desires uncontrollable at best. That understanding, unfortunately, would only last so long. Already he could sense their unease, their impatience. Shifters weren’t telepathic by nature but they could communicate through shared mental images and feelings. He could perceive the worries of the pack mates outside. They were uncertain and edgy. The one who had the power to bring all of the shifter races together was newly mated, making him unstable and unhinged when they needed him most.

Ava gasped and her sapphire blue eyes went wide. He felt her tremble in his grasp, her full lower lip quivering. Concern for her overrode the need to protect those who turned to him for guidance. She was the most important thing in his life now. Without her, he wasn’t complete.

To hell with it. He would make fucking time.

“Pinkie, what’s wrong?”

She jerked as if roused from a sound slumber and looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. Then she smiled, bestowing the most cock-rocking grin he’d ever seen, and leaned forward to brush her lips against his. This kiss was more intentional than the rest, as if she were offering him a different part of herself. He softened his grip and leaned into her. Her lips parted and their tongues tangoed, back and forth, side to side. The tenderness of the movements was not lost on him, nor was the way she pressed against him like a trusting, sultry armful of woman.

He lifted away and peered into her flushed face. She was beautiful like this—lips swollen, cheeks flushed. As he moved away and gave her room he braced for the previous anger he’d been given a dose of and watched in shock as she retrieved the rest of her clothes and began slipping them on without another word.

“I know you have a lot of questions,” he said, gauging her reaction.

She nodded as she buttoned her jeans and bent to pick up her boots. “I found out about shifters because you were the only people I couldn’t read. As a child I thought you were special like me. When I got older I realized there was a lot more to it.”

“Are you a member of the Villati?” The question was direct, no frilly cushion or chocolate-covered coating.

“No.” At his disbelieving frown, she added, “They’ve approached me, which is baffling since I haven’t told anyone what I can do. I can only assume they have some supersecret way to keep tabs on everyone who isn’t considered normal. I told them to piss off and they have.”

“Is there anything you want to ask me?”

He smoothed his shirt but didn’t bother with the stretched collar or his jacket. Even though everyone in a given proximity was already aware, he wanted everyone to see her mark of claim for as long as it lingered on his skin. He wanted to savor the gift she’d given, show the entire fucking world she’d staked possession just as clearly as he had.

“No,” she answered and slid into her sneakers.

“No?” he repeated, sure his ears were deceiving him.

“No,” she told him firmly and adjusted her clothes. “You said we don’t have time for this, so why don’t you take care of what you need to and we can discuss this after.”

“Are you all right?” He studied her, watching for any indication the second mark hadn’t done something extra.

“I’m as right as rain.” She actually fucking smiled at him. “Are you?”

Christ. She was as mellow now as she had been pissed before. Nothing made sense, but then, that had been his life the last few weeks.

She crossed the room, running her fingers through her hair. The blonde and pink strands remained upright in several places while the rest fell in jagged pieces along her forehead. Standing directly in front of him, she slowly looked up and placed her hands against his chest. If intended to ease him, the contact had the exact opposite result. His cock swelled once more, fully armed and loaded.

“We’d better go.” His words turned into a groan as her hands descended until her palms rested on his abdomen.

“Okay,” she murmured seductively and rose on her toes to press a kiss to his throat. His entire body shuddered at the touch of her lips, muscles going taut.

“If you don’t watch it, I’m going to rip those clothes back off, put you facedown on the desk and make them wait even longer.”

“Promises, promises.”

“Just wait until I really get you alone.”

She pulled away but the smile remained. “Shall we?”

For a moment he allowed that newfound connection between them to expand. Emotions between mated pairs were enhanced when angry, excited or frightened, meaning it wasn’t as easy to hide them unless you made a conscious effort to. Right now her calm and playful demeanor echoed her mood. In fact, from what he could feel, she was downright amused.

Shaking his head, he took her hand, turned and unlocked the door. After glancing at the bag just inside the office, he decided it would be safe enough until they came back for it.

The noise hit first. The big screen television was blasting some sports event while the sound of glasses being stacked and sorted echoed from the bar. They walked down the hall and the voices went quiet.

Diskant guided her through the tables slowly, wanting everyone to see his mate and appreciate what a lucky bastard he was. They all recognized Ava as his other half and could smell his mating scent all over them. Several of the shifters lowered their eyes and turned their heads to reveal their throats—a display of respect and deference—while a few turned away, obviously unhappy with the fact he’d mated with a human.

As he’d expected, Trey, Nathan and Emory were seated in the booth at the far wall. The stark amber glow in their matching irises warned him they were still juiced from whatever they’d discovered at the warehouse. All of them looked like they’d been on a bender, with thick stubble lining their lower jaw and chins, but Emory looked the worst.

Diskant assessed the Alpha, noting that his once-long hair was now cut short, the ink-black strands now curving along his head and ears. He seemed harder somehow—not a good sign. When he’d left New York after he and Trey had nearly torn each other apart, Emory’d had the temperament, and the short fuse, of a fucking pit bull. Diskant couldn’t recall a time he’d seen the Alpha this unkempt and ragged, with rumpled clothing and a wild, untrusting gleam in his eyes.

Not since the night Trey almost killed him.

Stopping at the empty, left-hand side of the table, Diskant bent down to whisper into Ava’s ear, “In you go,” and waited until she complied before he followed suit. As soon as his ass hit the seat, she slid up against him, her hip in solid contact with his, and placed her hand on his thigh. A ball of white-hot, undeniable sexual need shot from his stomach to his groin, causing the muscles beneath her palm to tighten, the skin just around her fingers suddenly sensitive and heated.

Christ, her touch and nearness felt just right.

He settled back and draped his arm over her shoulders, his hand feathering across the rise of her breast. Her breath hitched but she didn’t budge, although he did feel her tremble. He tried to stem the flow of arousal, although he thrilled in the fact she could feel it equally as much.

“I called for a meeting of all the Alphas in the area,” Trey said. “Since we don’t have long before everyone arrives, I’m going to put this shit in the open. We found the missing shifters.” Trey’s low grumble was laced with outrage. “All of them were dead. Shot through the heart with silver bullets. But that’s not the worst part.” Trey’s gaze briefly flitted to Ava and she tensed, fingers clutching Diskant’s leathers as if she knew what Trey was going to say. “They were skinned, and judging by the amount of blood on the scene, they were alive when the sick bastards did it.”

“Why do you think that is?” Diskant leveled a stare at Emory, daring him to turn away as he asked, “What could possibly possess Shepherds to wage war on an area with the largest shifter population in the Northeastern portion of the United States?”

Trey looked at Diskant then turned to Emory, his face shifting from livid to confused as he comprehended something was extremely wrong.

“What have you done, Emory?” Trey’s voice reflected his wariness and distrust. Already the gloves were off. Trey and Emory had never gotten along following Emory’s maturation into an Alpha, parted by differences in ages and the ingrained predisposition to dominate.

“It isn’t what you think,” Emory growled, immediately on the defensive.

“What. The fuck. Did you do?” Each snarled word from Trey was brisk and clear.

A brief but notable amount of apprehension appeared on Emory’s face before his thick brows furrowed and he pressed his lips together. Whatever the problem was, he didn’t want to discuss it.

“They came to my mate’s apartment looking for you.” Although Diskant made sure his tone was cool, his anger was unmistakable.

Emory’s focus darted over, his eyes resting on Ava. His heavily shadowed jaw began to tic. Diskant imagined his hands were forming into fists.

“They drew on us,” Diskant continued, studying Emory intently. “In plain sight. Whatever you’ve done, they’re not going to forget it or move on. You’ve got a bulls-eye on your back and I’m sure there’s a price on your head. You can’t expect others to suffer as a consequence. You’re going to have to balls up.”

Emory tore his gaze from Ava and glared at the table. He was breathing hard, chest heaving. Nathan placed a firm hand on his arm and Diskant knew the Beta was filtering some of his anger by taking it into himself. After several seconds, the gleam in Emory’s eyes lessened. Nathan let him go and sagged into the leather-cushioned seat, panting as his clenched fists resting atop the table tightened and loosed spastically.

“After I left I decided to go to Colorado,” Emory said quietly, voice shaky. “It was a nice change of scenery and a decent place to go it alone. I was there a couple of months before I met the most amazing female. She was smart, she was beautiful, and as you’ve probably guessed, she was mine. I couldn’t believe the dumb fucking luck of it all. I left home and found my one true calling. Then I found out her name.” Emory looked up and stared Diskant in the eye. “Mary Shepherd.”

Everyone at the table went quiet and eerily still and it was immediately mirrored by the pack members in the bar. Diskant turned from Emory, narrowing his eyes and gazing about the room. They’d all heard what Emory said but by adding to the tension they were making shit much, much worse.

This was not good news.

After a moment the noise level increased and the pack returned to business as usual, although in a much more muted fashion. Diskant returned his attention the table, noting the strain on everyone’s faces.

“You’re mated to a Shepherd?” Trey sounded as sick as Diskant felt.

Emory’s nod was jerky, his voice gruff. “I tried to stay away from her. She’s too young and both the man and the wolf recognized that, but it was too difficult to deny the pull. After a couple of weeks I started visiting her college, watching her from a distance. When I finally approached her I realized she had no fucking clue what I was. I found out why when we sat down for a cup of coffee and I learned her parents had died when she was fifteen and she’d moved to live with her aunt and uncle in Colorado.”

“Separatists?” Diskant asked, curious and intrigued.

“From what she shared with me, I would imagine so. I couldn’t exactly ask her about it since she isn’t aware any of our kind exist.”

“How did they find out about you?” Trey was still shell-shocked; it showed in his expression and his somber tone.

“Since I couldn’t exactly knock on her door and introduce myself, I made sure that we always met somewhere in the city. Her uncle got suspicious after we exchanged phone calls and decided to follow her. He was waiting to meet us after we shared a meal and were about to hit the movies, and he had a fucking troop of his kin with him.”

Emory hesitated, swallowing loudly.

“I tried not to shift but when he lunged for Mary it was impossible to control all the changes. They were endangering my mate and the wolf surfaced.” His voice became a heavy snarl. “I couldn’t stop them from taking her, not when they told her what I was and she ran as fast as she possibly could in the opposite direction. It was hard enough staying alive when they were firing silver buckshot at my ass.”

“Did you mark her?” Diskant knew he was asking a difficult question. All things considered, he highly doubted Emory had taken it that far. If he had, there was no way he would have allowed Mary to flee.

“No,” Emory answered, confirming Diskant’s suspicion. “There was never any chance to. The night we were discovered was the first night we were alone.” He lowered his head into his hands. “I shouldn’t have come here. Hell, I didn’t for several weeks. You have no idea how hard it’s been, to know my mate exists but not be able to claim her. That’s why I came back. If I don’t do something soon, I’ll return for her even if it kills me.”

Trey slammed his fist on the table, growling. “How long ago did this happen?”

“Five weeks.” Emory lifted his head. The anguish in his voice was mirrored in his posture.

“Every dead shifter inside that warehouse was a different breed, and not one of them was a wolf.” Trey lifted his head and looked directly at Diskant, conveying the significance of the fact. “When the leaders of the shifter races learn that Shepherds are in town for Emory they’ll demand we hand him over. No one will risk going to war with them. Not if it endangers their families and mates.”

Diskant cursed the circumstances, processing the information as quickly as possible. As an Omega, he had the final say on what went down in his city. Sometimes that held sway when it came to the wolves in the area. He had, after all, been born a wolf shifter and maintained very close ties to them. But by killing off different shifter breeds—of a predatory nature no less—the Shepherds effectively made this a matter he couldn’t take sides on. When those missing pack and pride mates demanded recompense he would be expected to provide it. Emory, a werewolf born into his original pack, wouldn’t qualify for any special consideration. Their connection alone would cause all the other shifters to be wary and distrusting.

Diskant looked at Ava, torn for the first time in his life.

If he weren’t newly mated, the decision would be as simple as breathing. Despite his status, he would arrange something that would save his brethren and force the threat from the city. Shepherds took the supernatural creatures they captured to special holding places where they could be “exorcised” of the demon within before their soul was given safe passage to the hell they viewed as heaven. Knowing that, he could have safely handed Emory over, trailed the sadistic zealots and put an end to this outside of his territory.

Now, however, there was so much more at stake.

He couldn’t leave Ava behind. Following a second mark she’d need the closeness and mating more than before. Without it, she would become crazed. Not a pretty sight, especially when a newly mated shifter was killed and left his or her mate behind. Usually the most humane thing to do was to put them down.

Of all the fucking irony.

Ava went tense beside him and he started to lean over to ask her what was wrong when Trey braced his elbows on the table and a loud growl rent the air.

“I’m not handing my brother to them.” The wolf under Trey’s skin was barely contained. His eyes changed color as his canines lengthened, causing his vowels to slur. “If they want him, they’ll have to fight for him.”

Diskant had to force his own wolf to quiet as it rose to greet a fellow pack mate’s fury. He understood Trey’s outburst, as Diskant was the one who had brought the pack together after Trey and Emory faced off, nearly killing each other in the process. Their rivalry put an enormous wedge between the wolves in the pack. It was the only reason Emory had decided to leave. Two roosters in a henhouse wasn’t a good idea, and no matter how much the men loved each other, their wolves were too dominant to stomach the other existing inside their territory.

Ava lifted her hand and wrapped her fingers around his wrist, caressing his knuckles with flicks of her thumb while leaning against him. The effect was staggering. The wolf went quiet, was forced aside, and he heard the cat within purr as it took control, brushed against the inside of his skin and attempted to get closer to the woman stroking him.

“Trey.” Nathan spoke quietly and clasped his Alpha’s arm. “Don’t amp up the room. They’re already primed.”

“Goddamn it,” Trey snapped as he struggled with his beast and attempted to take control. After a moment, when he was back in charge, Nathan released him. The strain was evident in the Beta’s posture, his hand visibly trembling as he pulled it beneath the table.

“Did you contact all of the Alphas about the missing shifters?” Diskant asked, hoping like hell that he didn’t sound like the pussycat Pinkie had brought to the surface of his skin.

Trey took a deep breath and sat back, shaking his head. “I left as soon as we made the discovery and came here.”

“I can’t put shifter lives in danger for the sake of one of my own, which means we need time to formulate a plan. As soon as the Alphas find out what’s happening, you know what they’re going to want.” Diskant made sure he had Trey’s full attention when he said, “We have to know what we’re going to do when we’re forced to hand Emory over. Do you want to take this across state lines? Do you want to risk placing their wrath on the heads of another pack?”

It was a fucked-up situation none of them wanted to be a part of. No matter what they did, they sacrificed one of their own. By choosing to follow and rescue they’d tread into the territories of other packs along the way. Shepherds were known for making their messages loud and clear by annihilating the populations in small towns, and there were bound to be plenty of them between New York and Colorado.

“We have to end this here.” Trey rubbed his hands together and gazed blindly across the room. “If we follow them, we’ll have to kill everyone we find.”

“Can you live with that?” Diskant asked, unable to force the rest of the question from his mouth. Could any of them live with killing women and children? Because that is what it would come down to. Shepherds steeped their children in their warped beliefs at a young age, ensuring that their demented “purpose” was ingrained from the moment they could understand the spoken word.

“You have to give me to them. It’s the only way,” Emory interrupted, his eyes wild and glowing. “When will you tell the rest of the packs why they’re here?”

Diskant felt Ava tremble beside him and he tightened his hold and bowed over slightly, giving the illusion that she was sheltered under his shoulder. “I should tell them tonight,” he responded without hesitation, relieved when she settled beside him. “They have a right to know. If it had been wolves that were skinned alive, we’d be out for blood.”

“We need to know more about the Shepherds’ enclave,” Trey said, turning to Emory. “If their numbers are small the pack can challenge them directly.”

“You’re asking the wrong person.” Emory laughed but there was no humor in the gesture. If anything, the Alpha seemed on the brink of a breakdown. “Mary didn’t tell me anything. She wasn’t even aware of the importance of her surname.”

“I can tell you.”

There was a moment of silence as everyone turned to the source of the interruption—the little bundle under his arm.

Ava.

She smiled at their curious stares and continued stroking his skin, the motion of her thumb calm and soothing, as if she gleaned just how much it affected him.

“You can tell us what?” Diskant asked, aware that the others at the table wouldn’t dare address his mate to ask the question.

She turned her head, smiled at him and answered, “Everything.”