Sean had vanished, no one knew where, and Gavan was no longer in the hay barn. Spike had been out of the ring, grabbing his clothes and running as the refs and spectators complained behind him. Didn’t matter. He had to get Jordan.
The follow-up call Dylan got that Connor had been beaten down and Jordan and Myka taken had unleashed a feral rage Spike had never known.
He’d known Myka was in the back of the truck racing toward them on the highway, feeling her presence as palpably as he felt his own skin. Getting buckshot in the chest was nothing to the pain of knowing Gavan had taken her, had hurt her, would hurt her. And the man had dared touch his cub.
He’d caught a glimpse of Jordan lying limply on the seat, fur covered in blood, and he’d ceased to think.
Now he punched Gavan’s face again and again. “You killed my cub. You killed my cub.”
“Eron!”
No one called him that but his mate. His beautiful mate.
“Jordan’s all right. I have him!”
Spike couldn’t look up to make sure this was true. But Myka said it, his mate, and he heard the relief in her voice, smelled it in her scent.
Gavan’s hold on Spike loosened. Spike kept pounding, the Shifter in him wanting the death of his enemy. He’d rip off the man’s head and drink his blood.
Gavan went limp. Spike went on thumping the man’s head against the asphalt, claws digging into his neck. Spike’s Collar was arcing, had been continually, biting hot fire down his spine, and he’d never felt it.
“You took my son. You took my son!”
Strong hands jerked him back. Spike fought, wild and crazed. He’d kill them all. They’d dared touch his cub, his son, his mate.
Her fragrance cut through his rage like rain on dry earth. She flowed around him, her warm body, her touch, her voice that wrapped his senses and didn’t let go.
“Eron, it’s all right. Jordan’s fine. I’ve got him.”
Myka had Jordan. She’d found him, wrapped him in her arms, protected him. The mate of his heart had rescued his cub.
Myka’s small, soft hand guided Spike’s to the downy fur of Jordan’s belly. The connection, the three of them together, cleared Spike’s vision. He blinked, finding himself lying on the pavement, one hand on his cub’s sleeping body, Myka kneeling beside him.
“Mate,” he whispered. “Don’t leave me.”
“I’m here,” Myka said. She leaned to him, bathing him in her warmth, and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I’m here.”
Pain like Spike had never felt before flooded his body, fire incandescent in his blood and along every nerve. But he kept one hand on his cub, twined his fingers through Myka’s, and knew he’d never felt better in his life.
* * *
“Spike’s home for battered warriors,” Myka said, opening the door for Liam and Kim, Kim carrying Katriona. “Welcome.”
They lounged about Spike’s living room—Connor, Ellison, Ella, and Jordan. Spike was stretched out on the kitchen table while Dylan picked tiny pieces of shot out of Spike’s chest and legs. Myka’s cry that they should take him to a hospital was met with quiet stares. Arriving at a hospital with a gunshot wound meant alerting the police, Dylan said, and Spike didn’t need that.
“Shifters heal fast,” Spike had croaked as he’d staggered into the house, supported by Myka and Ellison. Dylan had at least given him a shot of local anesthetic before he started.
“Where’s Andrea?” Ellison asked as Liam, his face bruised and bloody, limped inside. Myka did not want to ask Liam what had happened to Nate. “Andrea and her healing juju? And Sean? What the hell happened to him?”
Liam’s face split into a grin. “Andrea’s a little busy. Sean’s with her.” The sparkle in his eyes was one of joy, and Kim smiled as hard as Liam did.
Connor leapt from the sofa. He looked worse than any of them—his face battered, one eye swollen shut, and he cradled his arm carefully across his chest—but he sprang to his feet with the vigor of youth. “Andrea’s having her cub!” he shouted.
“Holy shit,” Ellison said. “No wonder Sean vanished. The only thing that could make him take his eyes off Gavan would be a call like that.”
“He and Andrea are at the clinic with Ronan and his entourage,” Liam said. “Glory too. Waiting for the family to join them. Sorry, Spike.”
Spike lifted a hand and gave Liam a weak thumb’s-up gesture. “A cub coming in is way more important than me. I’ve only been shot.”
Dylan picked out another piece with tweezers and dropped it with a tink into a glass bowl. “I’ll catch up. He took most of the blast. If we save the pieces, we can fill up another couple cartridges.”
“No thanks,” Liam said. “Spike, boy-o, when you’re feeling better, come on down and say hello to the next Morrissey.”
“Go away,” Spike said, his voice too weak. “You’re hard to take when you’re chipper.” He held up his hand. “Tell Andrea the Goddess go with her and her cub. She’s strong, Liam, and a healer. She’ll be fine.”
“Thanks, Spike.” Liam looked somber a moment. “The Goddess go with you too. You’re in good hands.”
“Ouch!” Spike jumped as Dylan dug deep. “Right. Sure.”
Ellison leveraged himself up, he too sporting plenty of bruises plus claw and bite marks. He leaned down and hugged Ella, who looked exhausted, then came to Myka and did the same.
“He’ll be fine,” Ellison said quietly to Myka as he held her. “He has you. The mate bond is an amazing thing.”
“Ellison,” Spike said, his voice holding the edge of a growl. “Get away from my mate, or I come off this table.”
Ellison laughed, gave Myka a final squeeze, and let her go. “You’re so screwed,” he said to Spike. “No more mateless nights, no more bachelor days. See ya, Spike. I’m going to go guard a lady having a cub.”
Myka stepped back so Ellison could go by, following the exuberant Connor, who paused long enough to give Myka a breath-stealing hug. “Guarding her?” Myka asked Kim.
Kim bounced Katriona, who was trying to eat her own fist. “It’s a Shifter thing. Friends and family gather while the mother has the cub. I guess in the old days, Shifters had to guard the females against predators while they gave birth.”
Made sense. Or would if Myka weren’t so worried about Spike.
Connor had assured Myka as they’d driven back to town that Andrea, Sean’s mate, had healing powers that would close up Spike so fast it would be like he’d never been opened. But now all seemed to think Spike would be fine without her.
Liam squeezed Myka’s shoulder. “Keep an eye on him, eh?”
“Are you sure he doesn’t need a hospital?”
Spike growled. “I hate hospitals.”
“So do I,” Myka said. She thought back to Jillian dying, the machines beeping. She didn’t want to see that again. And Dylan was right—they didn’t need to deal with the human police on top of everything else.
Liam squeezed Myka’s shoulder again as Kim said her good-byes and breezed out. “He just needs you,” Liam said softly. “The touch of a mate. Good night, kids.”
He caught up to Kim on the porch, slid his arm around her waist, and kissed her lips before leading her down to the street.
The touch of a mate.
He has you. The mate bond is an amazing thing.
The room went quiet, except for the clink of shot into the bowl, and Spike’s grunts of pain. Ella stood up and walked to her grandson, and Myka took her place next to Jordan on the sofa.
“Spike, I’m sorry,” Ella said. “I couldn’t protect him.”
Spike turned his head and reached out a hand to Ella. Ella took it and clasped it to her chest.
“Hey, that was Ronan’s job,” Spike said. “And Nate’s, the asshole. At one time I counted him my friend.”
“Nate’s dead,” Ella said. “Liam . . .”
Spike closed his eyes briefly then opened them again. “The Goddess go with him. Sean wasn’t there.”<
br />
Dylan answered curtly. “The woman Hannah is guarding him until Sean can come.”
Spike relaxed. “Thank the Goddess.”
“What does that mean?” Myka asked from the sofa.
“Means Sean will be able to stick the Sword of the Guardian into him,” Spike said. “Releasing his soul instead of letting it stay bound to the flesh. Nate did the unforgivable, but I wouldn’t wish that on him.”
Nate had died tonight, and Andrea had gone into labor. Death and life continued its cycle.
Spike swallowed. “Course I thought I’d wake up to see the end of that sword coming at me.”
“No, son,” Dylan said. “You’ll hurt a little bit, but you’ll be fine.”
“What happens to Gavan?” Myka asked.
They’d put Gavan and his three thoroughly beaten thugs back into Gavan’s pickup, then Dylan had driven them off somewhere, after loading his motorcycle into the back as well. Ellison and Liam had retrieved the other motorcycles, fitting Spike, his bike, Connor, and Myka into the white pickup. Ellison had driven the pickup back to Shiftertown, Myka squashed between the injured Shifters and holding Jordan, while Liam had followed on Ellison’s motorcycle.
Now Dylan said, “Gavan didn’t make it. He’s waiting with Nate to go to the Summerland.”
“Oh,” Myka said. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know whether he’d died of the wounds Spike had given him or whether Dylan had helped things along.
Dylan continued, “I laid out Gavan’s boys in his front yard for anyone passing to see. Liam and I and their Shiftertown leader will deal with them. They’ll find themselves so low in the hierarchy that they’ll have to climb a ladder to kiss anyone’s ass.”
“That’s it?” Myka asked. “They did help kidnap Jordan—and me—and tried to kill Spike and Connor.”
“Trust me, lass, in the Shifter world, it’s living death to be taken down the chain,” Dylan said. “No one will trust them, no one will help them. They’ll spend years upon years making amends for what they’ve done this night.”
“Gavan’s name will be cursed,” Spike said, sounding satisfied, if weak. “I hope he enjoys his corner of hell with Fergus.”
Dylan clinked a final ball into the bowl then put down the tweezers and swabbed Spike’s chest with antiseptic. “That’s it,” he said to Myka. “Keep him warm, keep him clean, and he’ll be fine. Now I have a grandson to help bring in.”
For the first time since Myka had met him, Dylan looked lighthearted. He didn’t quite smile, but the corners of his lips definitely twitched.
Dylan walked out onto the dawn-lit porch, stopped, and turned back, skewering Myka with a Shifter gaze. “We’ll talk about the bullet hole in my windshield later.”
“Yep,” Myka said. “And in your seatback. I won’t say sorry, because I’m happier with it there than inside me.”
Dylan stared at her a moment longer, then gave her a nod and walked away into the night.
Myka closed the door and turned around in time to see Spike roll himself from the table to his feet. Ella caught him, ducking under his arm to steady him.
Myka went to Spike’s other side. “You shouldn’t be moving so soon.”
“Nah, Shifters heal fast.”
Spike’s legs buckled then, and Ella and Myka got him to the sofa, easing him down next to Jordan. Spike put his hand on his cub’s back, and his face relaxed.
“Thank the Goddess he’s all right.” He looked at Myka. “Thank you, love.”
Ella took a throw from another chair and tucked it around Spike. “You rest. And talk to Myka. I’m going to bed.” Ella leaned down and kissed Spike on the forehead, resting her cheek against his unbruised one. “You two have a lot to talk about.”
She straightened up, enfolded Myka in a hug, kissed her cheek, and started up the stairs, yawning as she went.
Myka lifted Jordan, sat down at Spike’s side, and cradled the jaguar cub on her lap. She’d done this with Jordan many nights when Jillian had worked and then began struggling with her illness. Jordan was adorable with his too-big ears and too-big feet, tail curled around himself, his body limp.
“I think we do need to talk,” Myka said to Spike.
Spike slid his bandaged and blood-stained arm around Myka’s shoulders and pulled her close. That had to hurt him, but he nuzzled her hair and planted a firm kiss on the top of her head.
“I don’t want to talk,” Spike said. “I just want to say what I have to say.” He tilted her head back so she looked into his face. “Don’t go. Ever. Stay with me. Be my mate.” The anguish in his eyes didn’t come from the pain in his body. “Please.”
Chapter Seventeen
Please again. The warrior who’d leapt from moving motorcycle to truck to tear apart the men taking Myka and Jordan, looked at her in longing and said, Please.
Myka wound her fingers through his, studying their twined hands. “This mate bond. Ellison said it was an amazing thing. What is he talking about?”
Spike lifted their clasped hands to his chest. “It means I’m bound to you, no matter what. As long as you’re breathing, I’ll be with you, facing the world with you.” He drew her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. “If you don’t feel the bond, I’ll suck it up and live with it. But I’m not sorry I have it for you.”
Myka unlaced her hand from his and laid her palm against his chest. “What does it feel like?”
“Warm. Hurts.” Spike smiled, which pulled at his swollen face. “Feels good. Better than sex.”
Myka’s eyes widened. “No way. A male thinks something is better than sex?”
“So you know it’s good. ‘Course, the mate bond’s even better when we’re having sex.”
“Of course,” Myka said, then she lost her smile. “I’m not Shifter. What if I can’t share this mate bond?”
Spike shrugged. “I didn’t think humans could before. But I’ve seen Liam with Kim, and Ronan with Elizabeth. It can happen.”
Myka traced the tattoos on Spike’s chest where the skin was still whole, the lines of a crouching jaguar. “Let me tell you what I feel. Whenever I see you coming, my heart lightens. I think, Oh, goody, I get to be with Spike. When I’m not with you, all I think about is you. When I see how much you care about Jordan, you make me want to cry. You’re nothing at all like my stepdad, and you never will be. He was selfish and self-centered, and you’re a protector. You protect everyone. Your grandmother wouldn’t love you so much if you weren’t so amazing. You even got your nickname doing something generous for her. And whenever I think about going back to my everyday life, without you in it, I find it hard to breathe.”
A grin stretched across Spike’s face as she went through this speech, so much hope in his eyes that it broke her heart. “Are you saying you like me a little?”
“I’m saying I love you.”
Spike’s smile died. He stilled for one heartbeat, two, then he hauled Myka into his arms and against him. Jordan spilled from Myka’s lap to Spike’s, but he didn’t wake and didn’t seem to mind.
Spike kissed her lips, his strong, masterful. “Goddess, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever found. I love you, Myka.”
Their mouths met again, Spike’s arms shaking. Myka caressed his face—gently, not wanting to hurt him.
Spike brushed her hair back from her face, his smile wider. “The touch of the mate. Heals a man.”
Myka looked him over, from his purple bruises to the red pockmarks on his chest to the bandages wrapped around his arms and stomach. “I’d say you had a long way to go.”
“Then you’d better keep touching me.”
Myka ran her fingers lightly up his chest. “I can do this all night.”
His arm tightened around her again. “That means you’re staying?”
“As long as you want.”
“As my mate?”
The answer was important to him. It was important to her.
Myka thought about her life of loneliness, of reaching out to J
illian and Sharon, looking for the mother she’d lost and the sister she’d never had. How losing Jillian had been losing a part of herself, how she’d been drifting, alone.
Then Spike had caught her in strong arms and drawn her into his world, his family, his community. He had a solid place in it, and now, so would Myka. With him.
“Damn right,” she said.
The next kiss took her breath away. Spike was definitely improving.
After a long, long time, Myka laid her head on Spike’s shoulder, happiness swamping her in sweet waves. “I am sorry about the stables, though,” she said. She sighed, not wanting to think of anything that might pull her from this heavenly bubble. “That place gave me life, and hope. I love training, and I love the horses. I don’t want to give that up.”
“Oh, yeah,” Spike said, as though remembering something. “You won’t have to. I’m buying the stables.”
Myka’s head popped up. “What?”
“You tell the owner you can give him the five-hundred grand. Or figure out how much your other trainers can come up with and I’ll put in the rest. I can’t hand it over to him myself, being a Shifter, but I’ll give it to you. You pretend you saved your pennies or inherited it, or something.”
“But how . . .” Myka looked wildly around the plain but homey room, the stone fireplace, the lack of ornaments, the old television and the VCR player that had run through all those TV shows. “But Shifters . . .”
“Don’t have anything. I know. Shifter secrets, Myka. But you’re my mate now. You want the stables, you got them.”
Myka stared at Spike a moment longer, then she collapsed against him again. “Wow. I’m going to have to think about all this later. When I can. For now . . .”
Spike drew her close. “What?”
“Keep kissing me. We need to get you well.”
“I can go for that.” Spike’s smile was wicked as he bent to her again.
A furry body squirmed between them, and Jordan woke up with a yowl of fear and confusion. Spike caught him up between his big hands. “It’s okay, little guy. I’m here. You’re home.”