Shifters Unbound: Mate Claimed Part 29

Iona's eyes were wet when Ca.s.sidy released her and so were Ca.s.sidy's. Ca.s.sidy immediately turned to Penny and hugged her as well. "Mother of my sister, you're an honorary member of our clan now."

Penny looked a little bewildered but hugged Ca.s.sidy back. When Penny came to Iona, she broke down. "I'm so happy for you, sweetheart. I was worried, but I see how he looks at you. And how you look at him. I know that feeling."

"Thanks, Mom."

"Be happy, darling. And don't worry about the business. I can handle it. I took care of it the whole time I was raising you, remember."

"I'll still come to work, Mom. I haven't abandoned you."

"We'll see," Penny said, tears in her eyes.

Iona was stolen away then, for hugs with Diego, Xavier, and Juanita, their mother, then instantly claimed by Shane and Brody, who gave her, well, bear hugs.

"Leave her be," Nell said, coming for her share. "My house is always here for you, honey. I'll kick out these two louts, and we can talk about anything that troubles you."

"Thanks, Nell. Everyone's being so nice to me."

"To the mate of the alpha?" Nell's eyes widened. "You betcha. You've got the full trust of the dominant s.h.i.+fter, and everyone's going to want to get next to you. Take some advice-show that you're neutral to everyone and favor only your family. Trust me on this. But the offer of a haven is there if you want it."

"Thank you," Iona said sincerely. She had the feeling she'd be asking for advice from both Ca.s.sidy and Nell a lot.

"Hey." Graham stopped next to Iona, his tattoos sharp in the bright sunlight. He opened his arms. "I question your taste, but the blessings of the G.o.d and G.o.ddess go with you, Iona."

Iona let Graham hug her, aware that Eric was breathing down Graham's neck from the other side.

Instead of giving Iona a perfunctory hug and releasing her, Graham wrapped her in a powerful embrace that lifted her from her feet.

"And I'm not just sucking up to you because you're the leader's mate," Graham said as he held her. "You have b.a.l.l.s, Iona. Good thing for Eric that you do."

Graham finally thumped her back to the ground, and Eric shouldered his way between them, a low growl in his throat.

Iona grabbed Eric's hand to draw him away. Eric left with her, but only after he and Graham had exchanged long gazes promising violence.

Iona and Eric were pulled into the circles of dancing s.h.i.+fters, finding themselves in the midst of laughing, shouting-and growling and howling-males and females of all three s.h.i.+fter species, in both human and s.h.i.+fter form. Bears, wolves, and wildcats surrounded her, but Iona was with Eric, his hand on hers like a secure tether, and she wasn't afraid.

She let herself be swept up in the celebration, very aware of Eric's hard body by her side, and of her rising mating frenzy.

Misty found Graham sitting by himself on top of a picnic table in the middle of s.h.i.+ftertown, a little way from the uproar that was filling the place.

She'd arrived to find the streets beyond the gates deserted but heard the commotion behind the houses. She'd parked her large black pickup on a quiet side street, then walked the rest of the way to see what was going on.

She'd found what looked like a free-for-all baccha.n.a.lia-wild animals writhing around each other and with tall humans, some of the humans clothed, others naked, men and women alike. Music blared up and down the yards. Misty had realized, after the first few freaked-out moments, that they were dancing.

Graham had been easy to spot sitting on the table, surveying everyone like a G.o.d, a bottle of beer held loosely in his hands. Though the other s.h.i.+fters pretty much ignored her, Graham saw Misty coming-she felt his gaze on her all the way across the revelry.

Misty hopped up and sat next to him, for the first time nervous about being near him. Too bad, because she liked him. Graham was a big, tough guy with bad-boy appeal, but when she looked into his strong face and winter gray eyes, she saw a man who had to make hard decisions and hid his emotions behind harsh words.

There were two kinds of leaders, Misty had learned-the bullies that pumped themselves up by belittling others and those who were men good at command. The first were weak, the second strong. Graham, she sensed, was the second type. Misty's instincts about this were good, honed by growing up in neighborhoods where it was survival to tell the difference.

Graham McNeil had power. His large body exuded it, his huge muscles solid-no sagging flesh on this man.

"Hey," she said when he didn't say anything to her. "Am I cras.h.i.+ng a party?"

"A mate blessing."

He watched her in quiet contemplation, his stare not letting her go.

"Mate blessing? What's that?"

"Male and female s.h.i.+fter joining," Graham said. "Like human marriage, only better. The male in this case is the a.s.shole Feline who beat me so bad the other night."

"And you came to his wedding?"

Graham made an indifferent gesture with his beer bottle. "It's a s.h.i.+fter thing. We fight, we agree to hate each other, we move on. Everyone has a place, everyone knows what it is."

"That's good. I guess. Better than having to fight your way out your door every morning."

His gaze fixed on her even harder. "You're talking from experience."

"Grew up in a bad neighborhood in Los Angeles. This is better. Las Vegas is Sin City to some, but for me, it was a fresh start."

Graham listened, all his awareness on her. When she fell silent again, he said, "What are you doing here? In s.h.i.+ftertown? Today?"

She shrugged, doing her best to be offhand. "I was talking about getting a tattoo. Remember-you suggested I come to s.h.i.+ftertown and find you when I made up my mind? You'd take me to the best artist, you said. I'd like your opinion on the design too."

Graham finally looked away from her. He moved his gaze to the couple in the center of the crowd, a tall man who knew how to move his body in the dance, and a black-haired woman with a garland of flowers on her head. Red gerbera daisies and white roses, woven with a red ribbon. Good choice.

When Graham spoke again, his words were clear. "The thing about s.h.i.+fters, sweetheart, is that we're very good at knowing when people are lying." His gaze switched to her again, skewering her all the way through. "And you, sweet baby, stink of lies."

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE.

Fear licked down Misty's spine, a primal terror felt by small animals when a huge wolf had them in his sights.

He can't hurt you, she told herself. s.h.i.+fters wear Collars to keep them under control. Sure. Graham looked like that Collar totally controlled him. And he'd told her he'd been in a fight with the thing on him.

"You're right," Misty said, her throat dry. "I suck at lying. A guy called Kellerman is blackmailing me to spy on you. You heard of him?"

"You know I have."

"Actually, I don't know anything at all. I'd never met him before, or any s.h.i.+fters before you either. He thinks you're up to something and need to be watched."

"He's right about that." Graham fixed her with unblinking gray eyes. "He shouldn't trust me. He's doing something underhanded, and I'm going to find out what and stop him."

"I don't want to be in the middle of this."

"You're already in the middle of it, sweetie. This is what happens when humans talk to s.h.i.+fters."

Graham took one of her hands between his. His hands were gigantic, Misty's swallowed in them, but his touch was incredibly gentle.

"How did he convince you to come here?" Graham asked. "By the look on your face, you didn't decide he was wonderful and wise and deserved your obedience."

"No way in h.e.l.l. My brother is in prison and up for parole. Kellerman said he'd block Paul's chances if I didn't help him."

"d.i.c.khead. Why is your brother in prison?"

Misty didn't like talking about it, but under Graham's stare, her tongue loosened, and the words came out.

"When Paul was eighteen, he and his friends stole a car. To go joyriding, that's all. They were drunk and out to have fun. They got into an accident, and the people in the other car were killed. Paul was tried for grand theft and manslaughter and given twenty years."

"Is that a lot for a human?"

"More than the situation called for. Paul wasn't driving. He was in the backseat, and he didn't break into the car either. His friends did that. The kid who was driving was killed too, and the prosecutor came down hard on Paul and the friend that survived. The people in the other car were rich and prominent, and their family had a lot of influence. The judge decided to make an example of Paul. One stupid mistake, and Paul pays with twenty years of his life. But he's up for parole and maybe early release. Kellerman says he has influence, and that if I don't help him, he'll make sure Paul stays there for the whole sentence. So here I am. I can't jeopardize my brother's chance to get away from the gangs who beat him up every day. He needs to come home."

Graham listened without moving. No change of expression, no nodding. It was like talking to a statue, except for his watchful eyes.

When Misty finished, Graham said, "Don't worry about Kellerman. When Eric and I are done with him, he won't be able to influence a traffic light. But here's what you do: You run back to Kellerman and tell him some good dirt on me. We'll make something up. And then you tell me everything you can about Kellerman."

"Be a double agent, you mean?" That sounded dangerous but preferable to Kellerman having a hold over her.

"Sure." Graham ran his thumb over the inside of her wrist, a tickle of heat on her skin. "And I'll help you pick out a tatt."

"I'm so sorry about this," Misty said. "When I saw you at the bar, this is not what I meant to happen. I just wanted to talk to you."

Graham's callused thumb moved across her wrist again. "Why did you?"

"You looked interesting. And in pain. And lonely."

Graham stared down at her, and Misty again tried to read what was in his face. A powerful man might take what she'd just said as an insult.

Graham cupped Misty's cheek, turned her face up to his, and kissed her.

It was a slow, strong kiss that promised a mult.i.tude of pleasure. His lips were firm, opening hers without concern. He tasted faintly of the beer he'd drunk and more of himself, the bite of maleness Misty hadn't experienced in a long, long time.

When he released her, Misty struggled for breath. "What was that for?"

"You look interesting," he said, his face straight. "And in pain. And lonely."

"I am. The last two."

"Then sit here with me awhile," Graham said.

She shouldn't. Misty needed to get back to the shop and help her employees fill orders, talk to the wedding party for Sat.u.r.day, make sure they were stocked with emergency bridal bouquets-this was Las Vegas, after all.

"Yes, all right," she said.

Misty gazed across the yards to where the woman danced, twirled by another s.h.i.+fter, while the man laughed. Yes, she was surrounded by crazed animals and naked people, but they didn't take away from how the man and woman gazed at each other. That was what happiness looked like.

Graham's body was warm beside her, his hand strong over hers. Misty wasn't sure where this would go, but for now, she'd enjoy it. s.n.a.t.c.h happiness where it's found, she'd learned. Happiness dissolved all too soon.

"I thought the mating ceremony would make my mating frenzy go away," Iona said as the music slowed. "But I'm still hungry."

Eric wrapped his arms around her and swayed into her warmth. "The mating ceremony increases it, love. There's only one way to conquer the frenzy."

He read the heat in her eyes. "Too bad all these people are here."

"They're busy." Eric scooped Iona up into his arms, her loose skirt fluttering.

"Eric, wait..."

Iona trailed off as the s.h.i.+fters started to cheer. They knew exactly where Eric was taking her and what they'd do when they got there.

The cheer grew as Eric carried Iona from the circle and back to his house. The s.h.i.+fters broke into laughter, applause, louder music, and more raucous shouting as Eric and Iona disappeared inside.

Eric took Iona to Jace's bedroom, laid her on the bed, and closed the blind against the bright afternoon and the crowd outside.

"I'm barely keeping it in, love," he said, ripping off his boots.

Iona lay back, so sweetly waiting for him, his dark-haired beauty, her clothes mussed and hair tousled. The garland of daisies and roses had fallen halfway over one blue eye.

Eric fumbled with the b.u.t.tons of his s.h.i.+rt, fingers shaking. To h.e.l.l with it. He ripped the s.h.i.+rt open, b.u.t.tons pinging to the floor, while Iona laughed at him. He peeled off the s.h.i.+rt and T-s.h.i.+rt underneath, then got out of his jeans.

He liked how Iona's gaze went to him as the underwear came off, her eyes taking in his c.o.c.k standing straight out, dark and hard. Her eyes changed to her s.h.i.+fter's as she got to her knees, reaching across the bed for him.

Oh, yes. Iona's hot hands closed around his c.o.c.k, tugging him closer. Eric lifted the garland gently from her head and tossed it to the nightstand, then he ran his hand through her silken black hair. He tugged open the catches of her s.h.i.+rt, spreading it apart.

She wore a bra underneath, a white slash of lace. Eric sprang the hook, and Iona heaved a sigh of relief.

"I hate wearing bras anymore," she said. "They chafe. They never used to."

Iona had to release Eric's c.o.c.k so he could pull the lace from her warm b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He didn't mind, because he could catch the weight of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s in his hands. Her skin was so smooth, like the finest satin.

"Your panther doesn't want to be fettered," he said.

"I suppose in the wild, you always went naked?"

"No way in h.e.l.l. Scottish winters were cold."

"Winters here are warm," she pointed out.

"Doesn't mean we can't cuddle up."

Eric undid the b.u.t.ton on Iona's skirt as he pushed her backward to the mattress. He tugged off the skirt, then the panties, and then she was bare for him.