Shifters Unbound: Mate Claimed Part 5

"Why? Eric, what happened? What's wrong?"

She must be alone in her office, thank the G.o.ddess, because Iona would never have said his name like that if someone had been there with her.

"Please, just talk. About anything. Tell me about the houses, how you'll get them built, what materials you'll use. Whatever you want."

"Eric..." It was almost a whisper.

"I need to hear your voice."

Iona went silent a moment, and then she began to talk. What she said was innocuous, about load-bearing walls, roughing in plumbing, the problem of bas.e.m.e.nts in the desert. Eric only half heard it. The music of her voice, the dulcet syllables, floated through him and eased the pain that continued to beat at him.

Talking to her through a cell phone was nowhere near as good as having her next to him, where he'd be able to inhale her clear scent, to cover himself with her warmth.

Eric listened until the pain began to recede. When it finally faded enough for him to take a regular breath, he thanked her quietly and hung up the phone.

Iona stared at the phone a long time after Eric clicked off. His voice had been so weak when she'd answered. He'd sounded almost panicked.

She'd never seen Eric anything but strong and certain, but he'd been rasping, barely able to talk. Had he lost a fight, had another s.h.i.+fter hurt him? The Collars were supposed to keep s.h.i.+fters in check, but Iona had seen firsthand how "tamed" they really were.

Iona hit the Callback b.u.t.ton on her phone. Eric's rang on the other end. And rang and rang. No voice mail, no Eric picking up. d.a.m.n it.

Why should she be so worried about him? Eric drove her crazy. He was pretty much stalking her, talking about bringing her in and slapping a Collar on her, scent-marking her, mate-claiming her, whatever that entailed. Iona should not only be glad he didn't pick up the phone, she shouldn't call him at all.

If only he hadn't sounded so broken...

Going out to s.h.i.+ftertown herself to see if he was all right wasn't an option. The s.h.i.+fters would smell her a mile away.

Call the cops? No, that would bring trouble to s.h.i.+ftertown, and maybe Eric was only exhausted from a hard day of being s.h.i.+ftertown leader.

Cops. Hadn't Eric's sister married a cop? Eric hadn't given Iona the details, but Iona had read a newspaper story about Diego Escobar, a cop who'd quit his job and started a private security company after he'd moved to s.h.i.+ftertown to live with his s.h.i.+fter mate.

A computer search now led Iona to a Diego Escobar in Las Vegas running a private security firm with his brother, cryptically called DX Security. Their website had nothing but a banner and a phone number on it.

Iona dialed the number.

"DX Security," a male voice answered. He sounded tough, deep-voiced, exactly the kind of person you'd want if you needed someone or something protected.

"Can I speak to Diego Escobar?"

A hesitation. He must be looking at the caller ID, which would show her personal number and no name. She'd known better than to use a company phone.

The man spoke again. "What do you need, Ms. Duncan?"

Iona jumped. All right, so they were good. "To speak to Mr. Escobar."

"Is this about the housing?"

Word traveled fast. Duncan Construction had been granted the contract for the s.h.i.+fter housing only this morning.

"No. It's not." And I'm not about to explain to a complete stranger who I am and why I'm calling.

Iona was about to hang up, deciding this a bad idea, when the man said, "Hold on."

The next voice she heard was smooth and rich. "Ms. Duncan? I'm Diego Escobar. What can I do for you?"

"Check on your brother-in-law," Iona said.

"What?" Diego came alert, curiosity giving way to wariness.

"I just talked to Eric," she said. "He sounded bad, and now he won't answer his phone."

Silence. Oh, for a webcam. She'd love to know whether he stared into s.p.a.ce or was busily looking up information about Iona Duncan of Duncan Construction.

"Sounded bad, how?" Diego's voice betrayed no worry, but then, he wouldn't be good as head of a security company if he let himself sound anxious.

"Weak, tired. Not like himself."

More silence. Iona wished she could see what he was doing on the other end of the line.

"Ms. Duncan?"

"Still here."

"Thanks for calling," Diego said. "I'll take care of this."

"Good. Thanks. I just wanted to..."

"Yeah?" He sounded impatient, ready to go.

"Nothing. Thanks. I hope he's all right."

"I'm sure he's fine. Good-bye, Ms. Duncan."

She echoed his good-bye and hung up.

There. She'd done something about it. Diego Escobar was Eric's family, and he'd make sure all was well.

But Iona was restless. She told herself it was none of her business whether Eric was running around, healthy and fine, or pa.s.sed out in his bed. The only thing she should be concerned about was having to work with him to build the houses.

So why did she itch to jump in her truck and charge to s.h.i.+ftertown to see if he was all right?

Iona tried to get back to work. She had accounts to go over and bills to pay, but she found herself sitting at her desk with her fingers unmoving on the keyboard, staring at the numbers on the screen without seeing them.

"Iona, I found the shoes." Nicole breezed in with a big shopping bag, talking before she even got inside the door. Nicole was a younger version of their mother, with her same dark brown hair, blue eyes, compact body, and round face. "I was going to get the ones we saw at the bridal store, but then I walked by this boutique, and they had the perfect shoes in the window. They're not really wedding shoes, but I don't care. I fell in love with them."

Iona got up and walked around the desk, forcing herself to pay attention. "Doesn't matter. For your wedding, you should have what you love."

The shoes were gorgeous, high-heeled white Mary Jane's with tiny pink rosettes across the straps, the exact color of the flowers Nicole had chosen. Nicole held up one shoe, cradling it in her hands.

Any other time, Iona would be all over them, but worry about Eric was distracting her. "Nice," she said.

Nicole's face fell. "You don't like them. I knew I should have bought the satin ones-I don't know what I was thinking. I'll take them back..."

"Nicole. Nikki." Iona stepped in front of her sister and rubbed her shoulders. "Stop it. I love the shoes. Really. They're great."

"That's not what your face said." Nicole dropped the bag and the shoe. "Iona, I'm so scared I'm going to screw something up. This is supposed to be the happiest time of my life, and I keep changing my mind about everything and wanting to break down and cry every five minutes."

"Nicole, you're getting married and planning a big wedding. Give yourself a break."

"I run a business with you and mom, a man's business. I know all about stress. Why am I getting so crazy?"

"Come here." Iona opened her arms and pulled her sister close. Nicole rested her head on Iona's shoulder, letting out a little sigh.

Iona had always found great comfort in embracing her mother and sister. The calming power of the hug, she'd always said. Whenever Eric hugged her, though, Iona found herself torn between drinking in the comfort and wanting to jump his bones.

Eric had nudged Iona's s.h.i.+fter sense of smell awake this afternoon. She hadn't been able to shut it off since, and so as she hugged Nicole, she scented, loud and clear, that Nicole hadn't only gone shopping on her lunch hour. Her very long lunch hour.

Iona smelled Tyler, Nicole's fiance, along with the sticky sweet smell that came with s.e.x. She wanted to smile. Nicole and Tyler had met for a nooner.

She also scented something else. She didn't exactly recognize it, but the panther instinctively knew what it was. Maybe she sensed a s.h.i.+ft in Nicole's hormones, maybe she could already scent the second life inside her sister, or maybe this came from Iona's mating instincts ready to come out and play.

Whatever it was, Iona knew that her sister's urge to cry came from more than stress.

"Nicole," she said carefully. "Maybe you should have a checkup before the wedding."

Nicole's head popped off Iona's shoulder. "Why? You think there's something wrong with me?"

"No, no," Iona said quickly. "But I think you should."

Nicole took a step back. "What's wrong? Your eyes have gone all...s.h.i.+fter."

Iona blinked, trying to make her eyes behave. Any trigger of adrenaline and her pupils would become catlike, slits of black in light blue irises.

"Nothing's wrong," she said. "I promise. Everything's right."

"Iona, when you get weird like this, you scare me. Tell me what's wrong."

Her sister's distress poured off her in waves. She cried out for rea.s.surance, the scent of that stirring Iona's protective instincts even more.

Iona put her hands on Nicole's shoulders again. "You're pregnant."

Nicole stared in shock. "What are you talking about? I am not."

"Yes, you are. Don't ask me how I know. I just...know."

"You have to be wrong. Tyler and I agreed to wait to have kids."

Iona grinned. "Well, the kid didn't wait to have you. Go get a checkup. If I'm wrong, I'm wrong." But Iona wasn't. She knew it in her bones.

"How can you possibly tell?" Now Nicole looked angry.

"I told you, don't ask me. But kids are what happens when you have s.e.x. It's kind of the whole reason s.e.x was invented."

"But we're being so careful..." Nicole nearly wailed.

Iona hugged her sister again. "Tell Tyler to check his condoms for holes. Don't be so upset. This is a wonderful thing."

"I still think you're wrong."

"Doesn't matter what I think. Go have the d.a.m.n checkup."

Nicole burst out laughing. She picked up the shoe she'd dropped and put it back into the bag. "Okay, I'll call my doctor. I think you have no idea what you're talking about, but you're right. Better to make sure before I drink all that champagne at the wedding."

"Not to mention the shots at your bachelorette party."

"Good point." Nicole picked up the shopping bag and peered again at Iona. "You'd better go home if you can't keep your eyes under control."

"I'll think about it. I have a lot of work to do."

"I'll do the work. Get out of here."

Iona saw that her sister wasn't going to budge. Protect Iona had been the watchwords in the family since she could remember.

No one in the world had known about Iona's s.h.i.+fter side but Penny, Nicole, and Howard, Iona's stepfather. They'd understood why they needed to keep the secret, and they'd done it. But keeping the secret sometimes entailed making sure Iona was out of sight.

"Fine. Want me to take the shoes and drop them off at your house?"

"No, I want to show Mom. Go on, before someone comes in."

Iona went. She hugged Nicole again, giving her a kiss on her cheek, then put on her sungla.s.ses as she stepped outside, in case her eyes didn't change back.

She started her red pickup, then ended up with her hands on the wheel, dragging in deep breaths. The wild thing inside was clawing its way up, wanting out, needing release.

Iona still worried about Eric. Diego would look in on him, she tried to rea.s.sure herself, but Eric's voice, his distress, pulled at her. She needed to see him.

No, she needed to stay away from s.h.i.+ftertown.

But she needed to see him.

Iona clenched the wheel. Her hands sprouted claws, black fur rippling down her fingers. d.a.m.n it.

She forced her claws to be fingers again, put the truck in gear, and backed out of her place. She sped out into thick traffic, the commuters from Las Vegas heading home to Henderson and outlying areas.

Iona strove to drive carefully, but every time someone cut her off or tried to shove her out of her lane, the beast in her snarled.

This wasn't road rage-she wanted to kill. She could taste it, felt the need to have hot blood filling her mouth.

Her hands changed to panther again, and Iona lost hold of the wheel. s.h.i.+t. Iona grabbed it again, willing her hands to change back to human.