“Your son,” she repeated. Iona had looked up information on Eric after she’d met him and knew he’d had a wife—a mate—who’d given him a son. But Eric, so far, had never spoken about him.
Now he grinned. “Jace. You’d like him. He’s nicer than me.”
“Most people are.”
Eric was across the few feet of gravel, his hand gripping the back of her neck before Iona registered he’d moved. He held her solidly, his eyes glittering in the moonlight, gaze fixing hers and not letting her look away.
“I can’t be nice and be leader,” he said, all smiles gone. “My Shifters have to be ready to obey me in an instant, or everyone is in danger. That doesn’t leave me much room for being nice.”
Iona stilled as her mating heat started to rise again. Why did him touching her with so much strength make her want him?
She looked steadily back at him, knowing he could scent her fear as well as her excitement and need. “I was joking,” she said.
“You have a sassy mouth. I like it.” Eric licked swiftly across her parted lips, then released her.
He walked to the bike, straddled it, and started it. He didn’t look at Iona as she quickly jammed on the helmet and swung on behind him, but he waited until she’d wrapped her arms around his waist before he lifted his feet and guided the motorcycle back down the narrow dirt trail.
Eric arrived home to a full house. He was restless as he dismounted and put away the bike, the run with Iona not having calmed him. Even the long ride he’d taken after he’d dropped her off, to get her smell off him, hadn’t helped either.
Having her under him, ripe and ready, still had his body roaring. He could have taken her, fallen back on what Shifters did in the wild, forced the mate-claim on the female and dragged her home. She’d been ready, her mating need high.
If Eric had been younger, he might have done it. He’d chased Kirsten hard, and she’d played just coy enough to make him crazy.
When Kirsten had finally let him catch her, and they’d mated, it had been fast and frantic. Eric had shut her with him into the half of the house he’d shared with Cassidy in Scotland, and they’d not come out for days.
Since Kirsten’s death, Eric hadn’t bothered to pursue females. He had enough casual encounters to keep his libido under control, he already had a son, and besides, he missed Kirsten. Females were scarce among Shifters, and he’d decided to leave the females in their fertile years to younger males who hadn’t yet produced cubs.
He knew that what he should do with Iona was bring her into Shiftertown and give the younger males first chance with her. Neal, their Guardian, still needed a mate, as did several other males, including Shane and Brody.
But every time Eric thought about stepping aside and letting another Shifter have her, sharp, red rage boiled through him. Eric had seen her first. Iona was his.
Cassidy was in the kitchen, leaning on the breakfast bar to watch her husband cook. What Diego was mixing up in that cast-iron pan—strips of steak that smelled like they’d been marinated with spices and jalapeños—made Eric’s mouth water and stomach growl. He was hungry.
Cassidy drank water, her stomach distended with the cub she carried, while Diego had a beer. At Eric’s appearance, Diego, without a word, fetched another beer from the refrigerator and handed it to him.
Eric opened the bottle but didn’t drink, his adrenaline still too high. Beer would calm him down, but he didn’t really want to calm down.
Cassidy’s pregnancy looked good on her. She wore a knit shirt that clung to the bump that was Eric’s nephew or niece, the rest of her as long and lean as ever. It would be cliché to say that Cassidy glowed, but in Eric’s opinion, she truly did. Her face was rosy, her eyes bright, her pale hair sleek, her smile wide. Her love for Diego was plain to see, as was Diego’s for her.
“You look good, Cass,” Eric said.
He put his arm around his sister and leaned to press a kiss to her neck. Cassidy returned the embrace, ruffling Eric’s hair.
Diego watched them, the man used by now to the way Shifter families needed constant touch for reassurance. Diego was all for embracing and touching Cassidy, but he wasn’t as comfortable hugging Eric or Jace, even after living with them for most of a year. How humans had survived this long without curling close to their loved ones was beyond Eric’s understanding.
Eric could never resist goading Diego a little, though. Even now, when he was still wound up from Iona, he walked around the counter to Diego and wrapped both arms around his brother-in-law.
“Eric,” Diego said carefully. Eric suppressed a laugh as he squeezed Diego and nuzzled his hair. Diego didn’t move, though Eric felt the man’s fighting instincts rise.
Eric relented, released Diego, and clapped him on both shoulders. Human men were much happier when they were hitting each other, for some reason.
Eric picked up his beer again and leaned back on the counter, finally tipping the cold liquid into his mouth. “Smells good.”
“Carne asada.” Diego flipped the nearly smoking meat in the pan.
“Diego’s teaching me to cook like his mother,” Cassidy said.
“Cassidy is watching me cook like my mother,” Diego said. “Has been all week.”
Cassidy winked.
“You feeling better?” Diego flashed Eric a dark-eyed look. Diego was what humans called Latino, meaning his origins were a combination of Latin American Indian and Spanish European, mixed hundreds of years ago.
Diego had black brown hair, light brown skin, and dark eyes that held intelligence and passion—at least, passion for Cassidy. He’d grown up hard but had turned his life around, taking care of his mother and brother at huge cost to himself. He’d never been submissive to Eric, no matter that he was human, and he was a good match for Cassidy. He took care of her and made her happy.
Diego had come home early today, startling Eric, who’d been leaning against the wall in the shower, letting cold water beat down on him. Iona had called Diego, concerned about Eric, which—once Eric had taken his hand from Diego’s throat after Diego surprised him—had made Eric warm all over.
Diego, who didn’t know about Iona, had tried to question him. Eric had put him off, going next door to see Brody, who’d called while Eric had still been lying in bed recovering, wanting to talk about the buildings in the desert.
“Sure,” Eric said, answering him. “I went for a run. Checked out something Brody told me about.”