“Let it go, Shane,” Eric said. “If any more of Graham’s Shifters come over, sit on them and call me. We have bigger things to worry about.”
“Sorry,” Shane said.
Eric’s anger boiled. The incident hadn’t been Shane’s fault, and now the bear felt like he had to apologize to his alpha. Graham would probably demand an apology too, from both Nell and Shane. What a waste of time.
“Don’t worry about it, Shane. Just don’t do it again.” Eric surveyed his ruined clothes as another twinge of pain raced around his neck and down his spine. “Damn it.”
“You going to be okay?” Shane asked worriedly.
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
A lie, but they accepted it. Without another word, Eric walked back to his house.
He didn’t need to say anything more. Nell and Shane would know he didn’t blame them entirely, and that it was over. That was the point of forgiveness by the alpha—the subordinates could go on to the next thing without fearing retaliation.
Other Shifters who’d come out to watch the confrontation drifted back inside, understanding what had happened and taking the warning, even though they didn’t like it.
Eric entered his house, which was silent, warm, and dim after the bright afternoon. He knew without looking around that no one was home. The house felt empty, smelled empty, and besides, his family would have been the first outside for the fight—they’d have stopped it before Eric even got home.
Diego, his brother-in-law, was at work, and Eric’s sister, Cassidy, along with Jace, would be working at their ongoing task of helping the near-feral females Cassidy had rescued this spring adjust to life in Shiftertown. The arrival of Graham and his wolves wasn’t helping with that.
No air moved in the still house, the sun warming it as only the sun in Nevada, even in November, could. Eric turned on the window air conditioner in the living room, stripped off his ripped clothes, and stood naked in front of the cold stream of air.
Didn’t help. The heat that beat at him wasn’t from the sun but from the adrenaline of the fight, coupled with the frenzy that being near Iona always aroused.
He closed his eyes and thought about facing her over the desk, about the sweet tang of the honey mustard he’d licked from her lips. He again saw her hugging her naked limbs up at the cave, remembered the taste of her when he’d fed her the chocolates last spring, kissing her as she ate them. He’d have to buy her some more of those chocolates.
The first wrench of pain dragged a groan from deep within him. Eric took a long breath, trying the calming meditations Jace had taught him. But another sharp pain sliced through his abdomen, and he balled his fists against his stomach.
More pain came, hard and fast, and this time, Eric was aware of something different. He’d faced Collar payback before, but the agony that tore through him now was ten times worse. His arms and legs felt like someone was trying to yank them off. What the f**k? He hadn’t fought the Lupine that hard.
The intensity of the pain drained him of strength and sent him to his knees. Eric dug fists into his temples and suppressed the roar he wanted to let out. If he made noise, his neighbors would come running to see what was wrong, and some part of him knew he couldn’t let them see him like this—their leader beaten and weak.
What the hell was the matter with him? He wanted to vomit, to scream, to dig at the floor with his fingers.
His fingers turned to claws as he raked them across the tile, leaving gouges Cassidy would yell at him about. He willed his hands to return to human, but the claws remained, and his teeth elongated to fangs.
Goddess, make it stop!
Eric drew shuddering breath after shuddering breath, meditation forgotten. This wasn’t his Collar. This was something else, maybe something planted a long time ago finally working its way to the surface. Maybe him trying to learn to suppress the Collar had triggered it…
Maybe he didn’t know what the hell he was talking about.
The pain eased off the slightest bit. Eric drew a long breath and forced himself to his feet, sick and shaking.
The flow from the AC was like ice on his skin. Eric shut it off with a shaking hand as his claws receded, grabbed his shredded clothes, and limped to his bedroom. His was the smallest one, narrow, with a bed, a closet, and not much else.
He pried his cell phone out of his now cracked belt, dropped the clothes, and fell onto the bed in another spasm of pain. He couldn’t stifle the moan that came out this time.
Eric punched buttons with his thumb, swallowing bile as he held the phone to his ear.
She answered. A part of Eric unclenched when he heard Iona’s dusky tones saying, “Hello?”
“Iona.”
“Eric?” She sounded startled, then a note of concern entered her voice. “You sound awful. Are you all right?”
“Talk to me.”
“What?”
“I said talk to me.” Eric closed his eyes, letting his body fold up into a fetal position. “About anything. Just talk.”
“Why? Eric, what happened? What’s wrong?”
She must be alone in her office, thank the Goddess, 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 basements 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 Shifter hurt him? The Collars were supposed to keep Shifters in check, but Iona had seen firsthand how “tamed” they really were.
Iona hit the Callback button on her phone. Eric’s rang on the other end. And rang and rang. No voice mail, no Eric picking up. Damn it.