Half a million was a ton of money, and even pooling their efforts, the other trainers, all male, said they couldn’t cover it. Neither could Myka, whose savings consisted of some of her riding prizes in the past plus bonuses from owners happy that she’d helped them sell a horse for a good price.
Nowhere near enough to make a dent in five hundred grand. She could put her house up for sale, but considering the market nowadays, there was no guarantee she could sell it quickly, nor make enough even to cover what she still owed on the mortgage. All in all, a depressing meeting.
Spike waited for Myka at one of the outer corrals near her truck. He’d called his friend Ellison as soon as they’d finished showering, and Myka had heard relief in Spike’s voice when Ellison reported that all had been quiet in Shiftertown. Jordan had been up early demanding breakfast, and Dylan had actually cooked for them all.
“I’ll spend the rest of my life paying for
that
,” Spike had growled when he’d hung up.
Now he was leaning on the top rail of the square corral, watching the two horses inside. Both were Quarter Horses that belonged to a wealthy businessman who paid Myka to make them winners. The gelding had retreated to the far end of the corral, keeping his rump against the bars, while he watched Spike. The mare had planted herself in the middle of the corral and was giving Spike the evil eye.
“She’s a queen bitch,” Myka said, approaching. “Great cutting horse in the ring, when it counts, but when she knows it’s just practice, she’s a devil. She’s put me on the ground more than a few times.”
The mare glanced at Myka, dismissed her, and moved her gaze back to Spike. Her eyes were wider than usual, her nostrils flaring as she took in his Shifter scent.
Spike looked human—mostly—but the mare’s little brain was telling her she should be worried. Or should she? Humans were wusses, only useful for bringing her food, grooming her, or telling her how good she was.
Spike growled. The sound was soft but floated across the corral to the pricked ears of the mare. The mare’s head jerked up, eyes now ringed with white. She whirled around, kicking dirt behind her, and ran the few yards to gelding’s corner to try to hide behind him.
Myka laughed. “Karma,” she called to the mare. “Gets you every time.”
Spike gave the horses one last growl and led Myka to her truck.
As Myka drove back to Shiftertown, Spike listened to her tale of the meeting. She tried to speak lightly, but her distress came to him through her voice, the tightening of her lips and eyes, the change in her scent.
The stables were important to her—they were her territory, Spike sensed, more than her little house was. Her house was where she slept and kept her stuff. The stables were her life.
Good thing Spike would be able to do something about that.
When they reached Shiftertown, a car that had been dogging them ever since the stables abruptly pulled around them and raced off.
Damn it to hell. “Follow him!”
Myka shot Spike a startled look but stepped on the gas. The Shifter was good, though. He darted through traffic and swung onto the busy Airport Boulevard, heading into town and toward the I-35.
“Forget it,” Spike said. “Back to Shiftertown.”
Myka took the next turn and went around the block without missing a beat, heading back the way they’d come. “One of Gavan’s?” she asked. She gripped the wheel with tight, white-knuckled hands. “He’s really serious.”
“He’s screwed. Drop me off at Liam’s.”
Phone calls were too tame for Spike’s fighting blood. He needed action, to kill, to protect, and he needed it now.
Myka asked no questions but drove to the house, following his directions. She understood why he was pissed off, and through his rage, Spike knew that he’d been right about her being the mate for him.
The Morrissey house teemed with activity. Connor was in the backyard looking after Katriona, Kim already having left for her office. Sean and Andrea were in the kitchen cleaning up from breakfast—or at least Sean was cleaning up while Andrea rested her pregnant body on a chair and gave him encouragement.
Liam sat on the edge of a sagging sofa on the back porch, watching Connor set up blocks in the grass for Katriona to knock over.
Liam rose when Spike came charging up. Connor too looked up, tensing, glancing behind Spike to Myka.
“Spike,” Liam said, keeping his voice neutral. “Top o’ the morning to you.”
“Cut the rustic Irishman crap. I want that damned Feline dead. Gavan wants to get rid of weak Shifters so bad, let’s start with him. Round up the other trackers and bring Sean. We’ll need the sword.”
“Whoa.” Liam raised his hands and fixed Spike with his leader stare. “Calm yourself, lad. What’s he done?”
“What’s he done? He’s threatening my family to make me play his games. He had Myka followed home, then an asshole followed us this morning. If you don’t want to kill him, fine. I’ll do it myself.”
“No you won’t.”
Spike’s anger grated in his throat. “Why the hell not?”
“Because Gavan didn’t send the Shifters after Myka,” Liam said calmly. “I did.”
Chapter Twelve
Feral rage made everything red.
“You sent them.” The words came out harsh and staccato. “What the
fuck
?”
Sean stepped out onto the porch behind Liam, leaving Andrea inside. Connor scooped up Katriona and carried her a little way away.
Keep the females and cubs safe from the Spike the dangerous fighter in case he loses it.
“It’s my job,” Liam said. Sean didn’t move, but his distance from Liam was perfect for backing him up. “Every human coming to Shiftertown gets checked out.”
Spike knew that. Liam even had found out everything he could about Kim, his own mate, when he’d first met her. Spike had been sent on such reconnaissance missions himself.
“You didn’t ask me,” Spike said. “You didn’t tell me. You just did it.”
“You were busy.”
Spike wanted to kill him. The push was there, rising in him like black mire, urging him to lock his hands around Liam’s throat and lift the man off his feet.
Spike held himself back by willpower alone, a tiny part of his brain telling him to keep himself planted where he was.
But he could best Liam if he fought him. He knew it.
Looking into Liam’s eyes, Spike saw that Liam knew it too.
Spike’s hands curved to wildcat claws. “Back off. You stay away from my cub, and you stay away from my mate.”
Liam’s gaze darted to Myka, who stood behind Spike. Spike knew exactly how many paces she stood from him, exactly how long it would take him to get to her and take her to safety.
“Mate, is it?” Liam asked, looking at Spike.
“I mate-claim her. Under the light of the Father God and in front of witnesses, I claim Myka Thompson as my mate.”
*** *** ***
“What?” Myka scuttled forward, her cowboy boots catching on clumps of drying grass. “What did you just say?”
Both Liam and Sean swung to her, the brothers inhaling sharply at the same time.
They might be human-shaped, but the gesture reminded Myka sharply that Liam and Sean were predators. Like the horses that had recognized the danger in Spike, Myka shivered with the instinctive fear of prey.
She knew that Liam and Sean smelled Spike on her, and their lovemaking, in spite of the long and somewhat involved shower she and Spike had shared.
“He’s claimed you as mate, lass,” Liam said after a silence. “I had the feeling he would.”
“What does that mean exactly?” Myka asked, her heart beating hard.
Spike didn’t look at her, keeping all his attention on Liam. “It means I want to bond with you, Myka, under sun and moon, to make you my mate for life.”
“Oh.”
For life.
Forever
.
Liam shot her a look of sympathy. “It’s a lot to take in, lass. You can refuse the claim if you want.”
Spike’s snarl filled the air, and Liam snapped his gaze back to him. Myka saw other Shifters coming out of houses, sensing, hearing, smelling the confrontation. She’d witnessed violence in the fighting ring, but she knew that if violence erupted here between Liam and Spike, it would make those fights look like tussles in a kiddie pool. This would be a true fight, and it would end in blood.
“Spike’s right,” Myka said to Liam. “You do treat him like he’s stupid as a brick.”
Liam blinked. So did Sean. Spike didn’t, keeping his focus on Liam.
Myka plowed on, pretending that Liam’s white-blue gaze didn’t make her want to run like the full-of-herself mare had run from Spike.
“He puts his ass on the line for you any time you demand it. Then when he goes home to take care of his son instead of salaaming to you, you act like you can’t trust him. And
then
, you can’t let him figure out on his own whether I’m dangerous to Shifters. Isn’t part of his job as a tracker to do stuff like that?”
“Not when it’s personal,” Liam said.
“It wasn’t personal at first. I was just some woman who told him,
Guess what? You’re a dad.
But no, you figured he was too stupid to check out whether or not I was harmless by himself.”
Sean spoke up for the first time, his rich Irish voice quiet. “She has a point, Liam.”
“Of course I do.” Myka bathed them both in her best glare, pretending she wasn’t shaking all over. “This mate thing is between me and Spike. No one else. If you want to know who I am and all about me, come over for a beer, and I’ll tell you. I’m a simple person with nothing to hide. Now if you’ll excuse us, Jordan’s probably wondering where his dad is.”
No one said a word. Myka made herself turn her back on the double blue stare of the Morrissey brothers and walk away.
She passed Spike, who didn’t look at her, and strode all the way to her pickup, not letting herself gasp for breath until she’d jumped inside and slammed the door.
*** *** ***
Spike’s rage lightened and lightened until he was ready to run down the street laughing and turning handsprings. Wouldn’t
that
freak out all of Shiftertown?
Liam watched in astonishment as Myka walked away from him, his alpha fury having taken one in the kisser. Sean leaned back against a porch post, hands in his pockets, and started to grin.
“Is she reminding you of anyone, Liam?” Sean asked.
“That she is,” Liam said. His eyes softened from Shifter to human blue again. “I think she likes you, son,” he said to Spike.
“I’m not your son.” Myka’s declaration might have made Spike’s heart soar, but she’d been right, and Liam wasn’t getting away with his shit. “Stay the hell away from Myka. I mate-claimed her. She’s off limits now.”
Liam raised his hands, but the gesture was anything but surrendering. “I follow the rules. I concede her to you. She’s your responsibility.”
That meant that if Myka did anything considered harmful to Shifters—betraying their secrets, leading an insurrection, whatever—then Spike would pay with his life.
“So be it,” Spike said, using the ritual words.
Liam released him. The alpha clan leader calmed back down into his laid-back persona and called out to his nephew. “It’s all right, Connor. Bring back my daughter now. The bad time’s over.”
Spike didn’t wait for good-byes, apologies, or forgiving Shifter embraces. He walked away, toward the pickup where Myka waited, the tether of the new bond between him and her pulling him all the way.
*** *** ***
Ellison and Dylan were still at the house when they reached it. Dylan, of all people, had Jordan sitting on his knee in the living room, telling him a story about Shifters of long ago.
Dylan, Liam’s father, looked much like his sons, except his hair was going gray at his temples, and he had a few more lines on his face than did Liam or Sean. Other than that, no one would know he was already nearing the end of his second century.
Dylan had a stare that could tear the flesh off a disobedient Shifter. He’d been one of the first Shiftertown leaders, having to figure out how to keep three species of Shifters who’d been thrown together into close quarters from killing each other. The Austin Shifters had not only survived with his help, but thrived.
Jordan, oblivious to dominance issues for now, played with a stuffed jaguar Ella must have dragged out of the attic while he half-listened to Dylan.
Spike walked to Dylan, lifted Jordan away from him, and handed the boy to the startled Myka.
“Get out,” he said to Dylan.
Ellison came out of the kitchen at top speed. “Hey, Spike. Calm yourself.”
“Out,” Spike repeated to Dylan. “This is my territory.”
“Spike . . . shit.” Ellison’s distress plucked at him, but Dylan stood up, his gaze never leaving Spike.
“He’s right,” Dylan said. “I don’t belong here.” He didn’t move, though. “Did you find out who was stalking Myka?”
“Yes. Your son.”
Dylan’s eyes flickered. “Liam doesn’t consult me on everything he does. And I don’t consult him.”
Spike believed him. The flicker had been pure surprise.
Dylan didn’t try to touch Spike when he walked past him, and he didn’t turn his head to look at Myka or Jordan. He was acknowledging that Myka was Spike’s, and sending the message that he wouldn’t interfere. He’d have known as soon as Spike and Myka walked in that Spike had made the mate-claim, in any case. He’d have scented the change in Spike, smelled Spike’s scent-mark on Myka.
“Take care of your cub,” Dylan said, then he was gone.
“Did I hear him right?” Ellison asked. “Mate?” He looked Myka up and down, boldly, but Spike didn’t feel a threat there. Ellison understood. “Aw, man, I’m too late again. A beautiful woman comes to Shiftertown, and she’s mate-claimed before I even get a chance. She’s even wearing shit-kickers.”
Myka looked down at her pointed-toed cowboy boots, even dustier than Ellison’s. “I like kicking shit.”
“See? A woman after my own heart. And I have to bow out
again
.”
“You do,” Spike said.
Ellison flashed him a look. Behind his joking Spike saw his envy. Too many males still ended up mateless, even these days.