Mate Claimed

by Jennifer Ashley

  Iona looked back as they started for the house. Her mother and Ross had turned to each other again, Ross enclosing Penny’s hands in his.

  “How did you do that?” Iona asked. “Find him for us?”

  “The Guardian Network. Don’t ask—I don’t understand it all myself. Guardians are the keepers of information, and once Neal had a place to start, he found Ross fairly quickly. I think he’s here to stay.”

  “Thank you,” Iona said, heartfelt. “Thank you so much, Eric.”

  They’d reached the house. Eric pulled Iona inside its stuffy darkness and warmed her lips with his kiss. “I’m your mate. I do everything for you now.”

  Eric’s hard body came against hers, his wanting obvious. Their kiss was quiet, the solitude of the house a soothing contrast to the wildness outside. Eric’s firm, hot hands slid down Iona’s back, and she scented his frenzy rising.

  “Wait,” she whispered. “Be careful. What if the pain comes?”

  “It won’t.” Eric nipped her neck. “Not as long as I’m with you.”

  “What did you find out about it? That was why you went to see this Murdock, didn’t you? Cassidy told me who he was.”

  “Come with me.” Eric took Iona’s hands and tugged her down the hall to Jace’s bedroom—which was now theirs—but instead of making for the bed, he opened the secret door that led downstairs.

  Eric took her into the stairwell and locked the door behind her, then led her down, not bothering with the lights, both of them seeing fine in the darkness.

  He took her to one of the bedrooms in the hall, next to the one Jace had been using. This was a luxurious contrast to the rooms upstairs—a four-poster bed draped with airy hangings, a cavernous bathroom with a marble sunken bathtub, and a rug whose softness she felt under her sandals.

  Eric lifted Iona to the edge of the bed and started unbuttoning her blouse. “Dr. Murdock was the one researcher twenty years ago who actually felt sorry for me as he stuck needles into me and shocked me almost to death. Which made him, in that place, a nice guy. I did see him today, and he confirmed what was wrong with me. I told him he needed to cure me, and in return, I’d let him live. He agreed.”

  Iona’s Shifter felt a twinge of satisfaction at Eric’s casual threat of violence. She’d grown enraged when Cassidy had told her that Dr. Murdock had been one of the researchers who’d experimented on Eric. Iona had been ready to run after Eric and claw the man herself. These people who treated Shifters like lab animals—as they’d done to Tiger and had started to do to Amanda—deserved to be a little scared.

  “And what did he say was wrong with you?” she asked.

  Eric finished unbuttoning Iona’s blouse and pulled it open. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and the cool air of the underground room touched her bare skin as Eric’s gaze slid to it. He didn’t ogle, he admired, warmed.

  He slid the blouse off her and started on her skirt. “You were right, and Kellerman was right, that what was done to me was part of humans trying to make a super Shifter, like the tiger. Only, they started with a full-grown Shifter in my case. They planned to take off the Collar but keep me programmed with the pain if I turned violent, but only if I turned violent on them. They were thinking that with a series of remotes and implants they would control me with pain when they wanted to, or let me kill for them when they pointed me at their enemies.”

  Iona listened in anger and revulsion. “How could they do that?”

  Eric shrugged. “They were humans who didn’t know what to think when they discovered that shapeshifters were real. What do humans always do when they find a new species of animal? Capture it, study it, tag it. Or kill it and hang its head on a wall.”

  “But what they did to you didn’t work, did it? They stopped the experiments, obviously.”

  Eric pushed the loosened skirt down, and Iona wriggled her way out of it. She sat bare, in panties only, and reached for the buttons on Eric’s shirt. “They stopped the experiments because Shifters’ rights activists started to raise hell. I told Murdock that what they were trying to do wouldn’t ever work. The Collars are partly magic, not just technology—a half Fae shithead designed them. Murdock and his colleagues were trying to recreate the effect with biotechnology—just like the humans in Area Fifty-one were trying to recreate Shifters themselves with biotech. They put an implant in me all right, one so tiny I never knew I had it. The implant was supposed to trigger a chemical reaction whenever I turned violent, but they never got the reaction right, and my Collar always went off before it did. Then they were forced to stop the experiments and let me go, so they never could fine-tune the implant.”

  Iona opened all Eric’s buttons and skimmed her hands inside his shirt. “But why did the pain go away for twenty years and then come back now?”

  “Because I started learning how to control my Collar,” Eric said. “When Jace began teaching me the meditation techniques to keep my Collar from reacting to my adrenaline, the little implant woke up. They’d never taken it out—either they forgot or hoped they could get around the new rules sooner or later and begin work on it again. Then the implant started malfunctioning—or maybe making up for lost time—who the hell knows? Any adrenaline spike set it off, even small ones that wouldn’t necessarily have triggered my Collar.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Iona rubbed his warm, bare chest, hating how the pain had torn at him. “But Dr. Murdock is going to help you?”

  “He started today.” Eric shrugged the shirt off and turned to show her the deep gouge in his right shoulder blade, the wound already closed and scarring. “I told him to get his scalpel and dig the damned implant out of me. It was so tiny, like a dot. I couldn’t believe something that small caused me that much pain.”

  “What did you do with it? You didn’t let him keep it, did you?”

  Eric’s smile was feral. “I crushed it while he watched, appalled that I’d destroy something that unique and expensive. Then I told him to dredge through his memory for any other Shifter he’d done this to, and find them, tell them, and fix them.”

  “Good,” Iona said, her anger rising. “Good.”

  “He needs to give me a few injections, he said, to put my adrenaline balance back the way it should be,” Eric said. “But it’s a start. I already feel better.”

  Iona slid her fingers along the puckered skin of the gouge. “Are you sure there was only one implant?”

  “He says so. I told him that if I discovered I had more, I’d come back and break his neck, so I’m pretty sure he told me the truth.”

  “Good,” Iona said again.

  Eric turned to face her again, stepping between her parted thighs, hands sliding up her arms. “But I would have died without your touch.”

  Iona caressed his chest, not liking that he’d gone through so much. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Like I said, as long as I’m with you, I’ll be fine. The touch of the mate, your touch, is what kept me from going insane, no matter how close I came.” His breath warmed her cheek. “The Goddess sent you right when I needed you. I can talk all I want about the science, but you’re what keeps me alive. You always will be.”

  She leaned forward and kissed his chest, feeling the heat of his body, the pound of his heart under her lips. “Then I’ll be here. I’ll be here always.”

  “That was the plan.” Eric’s voice rumbled pleasantly around her. “Love you, Iona.”

  “Love you too.” She slanted him a smile. “If you’re feeling better, then I can do this…” She let her fingers become claws and lightly scratched him down his chest. “And this.” She rocked up, scraping his throat with her teeth, giving him another love bite.

  “Mmm. You can do anything you want, love. It’s not mating that hurt me, it was anger, and the need to protect you.” He licked her cheek. “Mating just makes me a little wild.”

  Iona slanted a smile up at him. “Are these walls soundproof?”

  His eyes flicked to Shifter. “Why do you think I brought yo
u down here?”

  Eric pushed her back to the bed, tearing her panties off her as she went down. He unbuckled, unzipped, and got out of his pants, then climbed over her, naked, trapping her wrists above her head.

  “I think we started this way,” Iona said, her excitement rising.

  “I held back,” Eric said, a growl in his voice. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I might have if I took you fully before you were my true mate.” He came down to her. “Which you are now.”

  “And I always will be.”

  Eric’s smile blazed, and the last vestiges of loneliness she’d seen in him vanished.

  “And I’ll always be yours, Iona.” He nuzzled her. “Mate of my heart.”

  Iona’s smile grew wicked. “Mate of my heart,” she whispered. “With the best ass.” She drew her foot up the back of his leg. “Don’t hold back now.”

  Eric’s smile vanished. His weight pressed her down, his kiss hot and raw. He growled as he moved his mouth to her neck, nipping and biting, his cock hard against her abdomen.

  Iona twined her leg around his, urging him. Eric pulled her upright, still on his knees, and holding her hips, he slid her down onto him. She groaned in pleasure as he filled her, her fingers turning to claws to dig into his shoulders. Eric widened her, filling her, winding up her mating frenzy until she wanted to scream with it.

  His growls continued, the male Shifter finding his pleasure in his mate. He held her hard against him, Eric kneeling back, their bodies entwined, face-to-face. Eric nipped and kissed her, his cock high and hard inside her.

  Then the joining grew wild. Iona never knew exactly what happened, but they were grappling with each other, licking, biting, laughing, shouting. The mate bond twined around Iona’s heart as their frenzy grew, changing her mating hunger into pure bliss.

  “I love you.” Iona was never sure if she yelled it or whispered it.

  Eric’s leopard eyes shone hot and green. “I love you, Iona. Mate of my heart.”

  She was on her back now, with her mate on top of her, his warm weight making her rejoice. Her mating frenzy floated into the darkness as the mate bond grew, binding her forever to this man, this leader, this protector she loved with all her heart.

  The panther inside Iona smiled and gave a little rumble of satisfaction.

  Turn the page for a special preview of the next Shifters Unbound novel by Jennifer Ashley

  TIGER MAGIC

  Coming June 2013 from Berkley Sensation!

  “No, no, no, no, not today. You can’t do this to me today!”

  But the car died anyway.

  It throbbed onto the shoulder of the empty highway, bucked twice, and gurgled to silence.

  “Aw, damn it.” Carly’s four-inch heels emerged from the car, followed by tanned legs and a tight white sheath dress. She glared down at the vehicle, the Texas wind tugging her light brown hair out of its careful French braid.

  She’d have to be wearing white. Carly jammed her hands on her hips and skewered the Corvette with her enraged stare.

  Take the ’Vette, her fiancé Ethan had said. It’s a big day. You want to make an entrance. He’d been in a hurry to get Carly out of the house, so he’d pressed the keys into her hand and pushed her out the door.

  Carly had agreed with him—the artist they were showcasing liked classic cars, and he was doing an exclusive with their gallery. Buyers were already lined up. Carly’s commission would be enormous.

  If she could get there. Carly kicked one of the tires in rage, then danced back. Her shoes were substantial but that still hurt.

  Perfect. Ethan could be generous—and he had the filthy richness to do it—but he also forgot little details like making sure cars got tuned up.

  “His lazy highness can just come and get me then.” Carly went around to the passenger side of the car and leaned in through the open window to grab her cell phone from her purse.

  Today. This had to happen, today. Still bent into the car, she punched numbers with her thumb, but the phone made the beeping noise that indicated it was out of range.

  “No effing way.” Carly backed out of the car and raised the phone high. “Come on. Find me a signal.”

  And then she saw him.

  The man stood about ten feet from the car, not on the road, but in the tall Texas grass beside it. Being late spring, that grass was full of blue, yellow, and white flowers, and this being Hill Country, the grass was a nice vivid green.

  It wasn’t every day a girl saw a tall hunk of a man, shoulders broad under a black and red SoCo Novelties T-shirt standing by the side of the road. Watching her.

  Really watching her. His eyes were fixed on her, not in the dazed way of a transient wandering around in an alcoholic haze, but looking at her like no human being had looked at her before.

  He wasn’t scruffy like a transient either. His face was shaved, his body and clothes clean, jeans mud-free despite him having walked through the field. And he must have walked through the field, because she sure hadn’t seen him on the road.

  His hair…Carly blinked as the strong sunshine caressed sleek hair that was orange and black. Not dyed orange and black—dye tended to make hair matte and stark. This looked entirely natural, sunlight picking up highlights of red orange and blue black.

  She knew she should be afraid. A strange guy with tiger-striped hair popping out of nowhere, staring at her like that should terrify her. But he didn’t.

  He hadn’t been there when Carly had first stopped the car and climbed out. He must have arrived when she’d bent over to get the phone, which meant he’d seen every bit of her round backside hugged by her skintight white dress.

  This stretch of road was deserted. Eerily so. The streets in Austin were always packed, but once in Hill Country, it was possible to find roads empty of traffic, such as the one she drove to get to the art gallery every day.

  There was no one out here, no one speeding down the straight road to rescue her. No one out here but herself in now-rumpled white and the tall man staring at her from the grass.

  “Hey!” Carly shouted at him. “You know how to fix a car?”

  He didn’t have a name. He didn’t have a clan. He’d had a mate, and a cub, but they’d died and the humans who’d held him captive for forty years had taken them away. They hadn’t let him say good-bye, hadn’t let him grieve.

  Now he lived among other Shifters, brought to this place of humidity, heat, and colorful hills. He only felt completely well when he was running in his tiger form, way out in the back country where no one would see him. He usually ran at night, but today, he hadn’t been able to stay in the confines of the house, or Shiftertown. So he’d gone.

  He’d left his clothes hidden behind a little hill at the side of this road. Connor was supposed to pick him up, but not for a couple more hours, and Connor was often late. Tiger didn’t mind. He liked being out here.

  He’d dressed, walked around the hill to the road…and saw a fine backside sticking out of a bright red car. The backside was covered in thin white fabric, showing him faintly pink panties beneath.

  Below the nice buttocks were shapely legs, not too long, tanned by Texas sun. Heels that rose about half a mile made those legs even shapelier.

  The woman had hair the color of winter-gold grass. She had a cell phone in her hand, but she waited, the other hand on her shapely hip, for him to answer her question.

  Tiger climbed the slope from the grass to the road. She watched him come, unafraid, her sunglasses trained on him.

  Tiger wanted to see her eyes. If she was going to be his mate, he wanted to see everything about her.

  And this woman would be his mate. No doubt about that. The scent that kicked into his nostrils, the way his heartbeat slowed to powerful strokes, the way his body filled with heat, told him that.

  Connor had tried to explain that mating didn’t happen like that for Shifters. A Shifter male got to know a female a little bit before he chose, and then he mate-claimed her. The mate bond could rear its
head anytime before or after that, but it didn’t always on first glance.

  Tiger had listened to this wisdom without arguing, but he knew better. He wasn’t an ordinary Shifter. And this female, hand on one curved hip, wasn’t an ordinary woman.

  “Can you put the hood up?” Tiger asked her.

  “I don’t know,” she said, frustrated. “This car is different from anything I usually drive. Hang on, let me check.”

  Her voice was a sweet little Texas drawl, not too heavy. A light touch, enough to make the heat crawl through Tiger’s veins and go straight to his cock.

  The woman found a catch and worked the hood open, then dusted off her hands and peered at the inner workings without comprehension.

  “Classic car, my ass.” She scowled at it. “Classic just means old.”

  Tiger looked inside. The layout was much different from the pickup he and Connor had been tinkering with all spring, but Connor had been teaching him a lot about vehicles. “Got a socket wrench?”

  When he looked up at the woman, he saw her staring at him from behind the sunglasses. “Your eyes,” she said. “They’re…”

  “Yellow.”

  Tiger turned away before her scent convinced him to press her back against the side of the car. This was his mate, and he didn’t want to hurt her. She wasn’t a female someone had tossed into his cage to trigger his mating frenzy.

  He wanted to take this slow, woo her a little. Maybe with something involving food. Shifter males around here liked to cook for their mates, and Tiger liked the rituals.

  She opened the back of the car and found a toolbox, which did have a set of socket wrenches. Tiger took one and reached inside the car, letting himself look for the silence in him that would lead him to the problem. He seemed to be able to sense what was wrong with engines, and how to coax them back to life. He couldn’t explain how he did it—he just knew that cars and trucks didn’t watch him, or fear him.