“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.
Ellison winked at Myka, then he came to Spike and put his hands on his shoulders. “Congratulations, man.” His grip clamped down. “You deserve it.”
Spike put his hands on Ellison’s shoulders in return. Ellison refrained from hugging Spike, likely sensing that Spike was too volatile, turned away, chucked Jordan under the chin, and breezed out.
“Spike,” Myka said. “I mean, Eron. We need to talk.”
“In a sec.” Spike turned away and sought the emptiness of the kitchen, pulling out his cell phone and punching in a number. “Gavan,” he said, when the Feline answered. “I want to meet.”
Chapter Thirteen
Myka spent the morning on the phone trying to come up with five-hundred thousand dollars. Her fellow trainers thought they might raise a hundred and fifty between them, including what Myka could add, but that was it.
Banks and investors weren’t interested. Stables didn’t make money. Horses ate the profits—literally. More than one lender said that to her, thinking it hilarious.
Spike still hadn’t returned when it came time for Myka to leave for Jillian’s funeral. She asked Ellison to come back and help Ella with Jordan, even though she thought Jordan was probably safe enough with only his grandmother. Myka was angry at Liam for going behind Spike’s back to spy on her, but she didn’t think the man would he’d harm Jordan.
She agreed with Spike about not taking Jordan to the funeral. Jordan seemed to understand, with perception a human child might not have, that his mother had been beyond saving. Jordan kept mentioning the Summerland, saying he was glad his mom was safe there.
Myka didn’t want to upset his new equilibrium by taking him to a funeral home with grieving adults. Again, Jordan seemed to understand, and told Myka to tell his mom he loved her.
At the funeral, Sharon was surrounded by her immediate family, who rallied around to comfort her. Sharon told Myka she was getting by all right, and some tension left her when Myka said she thought Jordan would be fine living with his father.
The funeral was as sad as Myka had thought it would be. But she was glad she had the chance to say a good-bye to her friend, the fun-loving young woman who’d lived hard and died too quickly.
Afterward, Myka drove back to Spike’s house. His Shifter neighbors up and down the street watched her return, knowing something had changed between her and Spike. A few raised hands in greeting, many simply watched.
Myka sensed the change in herself as well. Her body felt different—stronger somehow. Her thoughts were restless, and a warm ache spread from her chest to twine her entire body.