The trouble was, Graham was getting the same message back from Eric. This was going to be a long, bloody fight. The humans in this room had no idea what they’d started.
Eric took the seat on the opposite end of the table from Graham, not only to keep himself from ripping out Graham’s throat, but also to prevent Graham smelling Iona on him. It had been two days and many scrubbings since Eric had chased Iona in the wild land north of town, but he didn’t need Graham to catch any lingering scent.
Her sexy scent. Eric had dreamed of her for the last two nights, the dreams so vivid that he woke up surprised he was alone in his bed. He woke up hard and sweating, groaning as the sheets brushed his aching cock. He was like a Shifter in mating frenzy, but Eric had conquered that a long time ago, right?
Iona was made for mating frenzy. He thought of her with her long limbs curled around herself as she’d gazed at him in the moonlight outside the cave.
Eric needed to protect her, yes, but he also wanted to go to her, wrap himself around her, declare her his mate, keep her away from all others. A Shifter’s primal need was to hole up with a female for weeks at a time, keeping her safe while they sexed themselves mindless, nature’s way of ensuring that cubs came.
Times were more civilized now. Females could reject the mate-claim, and they all lived in peace and harmony.
Bullshit. Whenever Eric looked at Iona, or scented her, or felt her warmth, civilization went to hell. He wanted Iona, wanted to be naked with her, nothing more.
Those thoughts were dangerous while Graham McNeil watched him from the other end of the table, but he couldn’t stop them coming.
One of the humans cleared his throat, calling the meeting to order.
The humans in the room were nervous. The smell of fear was rank, and Graham didn’t hide his disgust. But at least their fear scent would cover any residual one of Iona’s.
The talk moved instantly to housing, a bone of contention.
“Every effort is being made, Mr. McNeil,” the leader of the bunch said, a shit of a man called Frank Kellerman.
Kellerman was the head of the Shifter liaison committee, and the only one of the humans who wasn’t sweating hard in his suit. The rest eyed Graham in outright fear if they could bring themselves to look at him at all.
Kellerman went on, “The housing being built will equal that which is already in Shiftertown. For now, your families will have to adapt to boarding with others.”
Graham balled his hands on the table. “I’m not putting my wolves in houses with a bunch of f**king Felines or bears. His Shifters can double up. We’ll take the houses they empty.”
“I agree,” Eric said. All gazes shot to him now, including Graham’s. “Shifters have a tough time living with strangers,” Eric went on. “The Elko Shifters should occupy houses together, and our Shifters will move in with their own clan members.”
Kellerman gave Eric his smooth smile. “The point is that the Elko Shifters and the Las Vegas Shifters need to integrate as quickly as possible. Bunking together will induce camaraderie and make the transition painless.”
What an idiot. Eric kept his face straight, but Graham rolled his eyes. When strange Shifters found themselves thrown together in a tight space, the natural instinct was to go into a dominance battle.
Who controlled each house was as important as who controlled Shiftertown. Members of the same clan or same community already knew who was dominant. There would still be conflict, but exponentially less.
Eric said, “You shove us together without letting us get used to each other first, and there’ll be a bloodbath.”
“But you have Collars,” the nervous man who’d called the meeting to order said. “Shifters can no longer fight one another.”
“Then you’ll have a crapload of Collar-shocked Shifters all over the place,” Graham said from his end of the table. “We’ll fight for dominance, Kellerman. It’s instinctive, and it won’t be pretty.”
Eric stared down the table at Graham, willing the guy to shut up. Graham wasn’t used to dealing with humans. Eric had learned to let the humans understand just enough Shifter business to keep them happy, and how much to keep from them.
Graham met Eric’s gaze, but instead of subsiding, he sat up straighter, meeting the challenge. Dumb-ass. Challenging for leadership in this room would only get them both arrested.
“An even better solution,” Eric said, still looking at Graham, “would be to get the houses built before the wolves transfer down.”
“We can’t wait that long,” Kellerman said. “Though the houses will be started soon. We formally accepted a bid from a construction company this morning.”
Eric kept his gaze from moving. He hadn’t heard from Iona since their encounter, and he didn’t know whether she’d had her company make the bid. His Guardian, Neal Ingram, good at getting info Shifters weren’t supposed to have, said he hadn’t seen a bid come forward from Duncan Construction in the Shifter council’s records. It must have been sent at the last minute, right before this meeting, in fact.
Graham’s gaze sharpened as he watched Eric, catching Eric’s subtlest reaction. The Lupine was good.
“What construction company?” Graham asked without looking away from Eric.
Kellerman consulted his notes. “A small, local company who does quality work. They put in a decent bid, and we accepted it.” He closed the file, but Eric couldn’t see it anyway from his vantage point. “Their architects are already drawing up plans. Within a month, you’ll have new places to live.”
Eric didn’t let his expression change. The players in the poker tournaments downtown would have envied his blank face. Graham kept his gaze hard on Eric for a few moments before switching it to Kellerman.
Graham turning away didn’t mean Graham was giving up. He’d sent Eric a signal that he knew there was something going on, and he was going to find out what.
After the meeting ended—with nothing resolved—Graham fell into step with Eric as they headed for the parking garage and their separate vehicles. “Why so interested in the construction company, Warden?”
Eric didn’t bother looking at him. “You aren’t?”
Graham stopped. They were relatively alone, the upper floors of the parking garage sparse at the human lunch hour. “What are you up to?”
“You know we have to alter the houses,” Eric said. “Be good to know what kind of plans these architects are coming up with. Better still to have the plans changed to fit our needs.”