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?”