Mate Claimed su-4

by Jennifer Ashley

  The dark parking lot was already packed with vehicles by the time Eric and his party arrived. Iona drove Eric and Shane in her truck, the right half of the little pickup listing from Shane’s bulk in the passenger’s seat.

  Eric followed Shane through the hordes of cars and people to the other side of the resort, where a wide space on what had been a golf course had been cleared down to the dirt. Circles were marked here, five of them, so more than one fight could occur at once. The darkness was broken by fires flickering in trash cans, and in fire pits or grills people had brought with them. Some had brought lantern flashlights or battery-powered work lights—in short, anything portable that didn’t need to be plugged in.

  The crowd of Shifters and humans parted under the mismatched glare as Eric approached, with Shane and Diego. Iona came right behind them with Jace, Cassidy, Xav, Brody, Nell, and Diego’s tiny mom, Juanita. All weapons had to be left at the entrance, so Eric didn’t have to worry about Nell helping things along with a shotgun.

  The Shiftertown’s Guardian, Neal, was already here, the hilt of his huge sword rising over his left shoulder. The Guardian’s sword would dispatch a dying Shifter to the Summerland, rendering the Shifter a pile of dust, his soul freed. Neal was a necessity, but the other Shifters gave him a wide berth.

  Graham was already waiting near the center ring. By tacit consent, no other fights would go on while the two Shiftertown leaders battled, so the other rings were empty.

  Graham’s seconds came forward to meet Diego and Shane. One of Graham’s seconds was the nephew, Dougal, whom Eric had smacked down for attacking Shane. The other was called Chisholm, a young Lupine from the second-highest-ranking pack in Graham’s Shiftertown. Eric had made it his business to know the lineage of every single wolf Graham was bringing with him from Elko.

  Chisholm spoke first, addressing Shane. “Your fighter understands the rules?”

  “He does,” Shane rumbled. “Yours?”

  “He’s made himself familiar with them.”

  “No interference,” Shane said.

  “No interference.” Chisholm nodded.

  Chisholm and Dougal were wary of the huge Shane, but Eric watched the two try to best Diego with a stare down. Diego, however, didn’t flinch, and the wolves backed down first.

  To Graham’s credit, he didn’t even look in Iona’s direction as they waited for the fight to begin. Graham was respecting the Challenge. The warriors would concentrate on the fight, and the one who remained standing would then claim the female. She was off-limits to the Challenger until he won. At least Graham knew how to follow Shifter rules.

  Diego turned to Eric. “Ready?”

  “Let’s get this done,” Eric said.

  His followers started an immediate volley of advice and encouragement behind him. “Kick his ass, Eric,” Nell said.

  “I’ll tell you what I used to tell my boys,” Juanita Escobar said. “Fight dirty if you have to, but come out looking good. Don’t just win the fight, win respect.”

  Cassidy gave Eric a warm hug. “You’ll do it, Eric.”

  Iona remained apart, her dark hair stirred by the wind that had sprung up over the desert, her light blue eyes gleaming in the odd light.

  Damn the Challenge, and damn the humans who’d decided Graham should be moved to his Shiftertown. Eric could be holed up with Iona somewhere right now, teaching her not to be afraid of her mating need. Instead he was standing here in a crowd of excited and smelly Shifters, waiting to battle an asshole in a stupid posturing fight.

  Eric put his hands on Iona’s shoulders, caressing with his thumbs. “Don’t worry. I’ll finish here, and we’ll go out for pizza.”

  Hunger flared in Iona’s eyes. “Don’t talk about pizza.” Her arms stole around his waist. “Seriously, Eric, be careful. Like you said, he’s tricky.”

  “Yeah, but so am I.”

  “No kidding.” Iona pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “I hate everything about this, but…Nell’s right. Kick his ass.”

  Eric grinned, gave her another kiss, straightened up, and strode to the ring, where he stripped off his clothes. It was time.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  As unhappy as Iona was about this fight, the woman in her appreciated the sight of Eric’s honed, naked body as he walked toward the ring. His back was straight, shoulders broad, waist tapering to firm buttocks, unashamedly bare.

  He moved as calmly as ever, even though he was about to fight, maybe to the death. Iona had come to realize that Eric’s nonchalant stance, like his casual sprawl on the sofa, hid a man sharply aware of everything around him. He was poised to spring even now as he stood waiting for the fight to begin.

  The referees entered the ring first, three Shifters and a human. Iona wondered how they’d been chosen—who organized these fights anyway?

  Graham had stripped down, the man as big as Eric, and even more broad of shoulder. The hair on his head was buzzed short, but he had thick wiry hair on his chest. Red and black fire tatts wound down his arms, more wild than the neat jagged black pattern down Eric’s right arm. Graham’s eyes were white gray, stark in the dim light.

  The cold knot in Iona’s stomach tightened as the refs stepped back and Graham and Eric entered the ring.

  As soon as the refs signaled the start of the fight, the noise around her became insane. All Shiftertown must be there, the Shifters shouting, yelling, screaming, or roaring and growling.

  Diego’s diminutive mother had made Xavier find her a box to stand on so she could see. She and Nell were hollering, hands around mouths. Cassidy shouted as much as they did, the other Shifters and Xav not drowning her out.

  Iona couldn’t make a sound. She watched from the edge of the ring as Graham and Eric circled each other in silence, each assessing the other, each waiting for an opening.

  As the crowd’s noise escalated, Graham finally attacked.

  He remained human but dove at Eric, rage in his eyes. His Collar sparked, but Graham totally ignored it to slam himself into Eric.

  Eric shifted as the man came down, and rammed all four wildcat paws into Graham.

  Who became a wolf. Graham’s wolf was huge and black, his red mouth open to show gigantic teeth. Eric’s leopard snarl reached even over the crowd noise as he let himself fight.

  The refs circled, but what went on in the center of the ring was too fast to follow. Cat and wolf fought with whirlwind madness, paws striking, teeth tearing, dust billowing. Blood flowed, both on Eric’s white fur and Graham’s black sides.

  Graham’s Collar kept arcing snakes of blue, the thing never letting up, but it didn’t slow him down for a second. Eric’s Collar remained silent, which no one but Iona seemed to notice.

  As the fight continued, something started happening inside Iona. The hunger that was driving her crazy didn’t abate, but a new sensation rose to match it.

  Fury.

  Eric was fighting for his life, fighting for her. Graham was pounding him, the wolf larger than the wildcat, though the leopard was plenty fast.

  Another alpha was beating up her mate, and here was Iona, stuck on the sidelines, unable to go to his defense because of the stupid rules of the fight club.

  What would they do if she ran in there? Simply stop the fight? Declare Graham the winner? Didn’t matter, because Iona wasn’t about to become Graham’s mate, regardless of how the battle turned out.

  The Challenge was more symbolic, Eric had tried to explain—he was out here to put Graham in his place.

  The wildcat inside Iona didn’t give a shit. She saw Eric battling, and the need to get in there and save his ass surged within her until her vision filled with red haze.

  Her body started to change to the panther, never mind that she’d rip her clothes to shreds, and a long growl came out of her throat.

  Cassidy glanced at her. “Iona?” She leaned to her. “You okay?”

  Iona couldn’t answer. The Shifter in her was taking over, and she had no Collar to stop her. She could kill Graham
and, as Eric had said, go out for pizza.

  She took a step forward, but Cassidy grabbed her with a strong hand. “I know,” Cass said in Iona’s ear. “I know how it feels. But you can’t.”

  Iona shook her off. In the ring, the wolf and wildcat were tearing each other apart, bodies rolling around in a tight ball, the refs circling them, trying to decide what was happening.

  The refs would never be able to pull them apart in time. One of those Shifters was going to die, and if Iona had anything to say about it, it wouldn’t be Eric.

  The need to defend him rose like a black tide. She snarled as she ran forward—and came up against the bulk of Shane.

  “No,” Shane shouted at her. “He’ll have to forfeit if you put one toe in the ring.”

  Iona switched her rage-filled gaze to Shane, who took a startled step back. Iona pinned him with her glare, willing him to get out of her way, promising silently that she’d rip him open if he didn’t.

  A wildcat scream sounded from the ring. Iona shot past Shane, the sound of Eric in pain propelling her.

  Graham, still a huge black wolf, scrambled back from Eric, blinking and breathing hard. Eric was on the ground, his Collar silent, but he writhed in agony. Blood coated his fur, but Iona knew that wounds weren’t causing the pain.

  Eric had moaned in the same kind of agony last night in his bed. Unexplained pain was again twisting his body, his wildcat snarling and rolling to try to stop it.

  Graham’s Collar was going off like crazy. The wolf rose on its hind legs, shifting on the way, until the human Graham stood up, hands on hips, panting, Collar still sparking.

  “It’s over!” Graham, gray-faced with his own pain, yelled at the refs. “He’s done. I’ve won.”

  Iona ducked away from Shane’s outstretched hand and leapt into the ring. She was half changing, her limbs becoming the cat’s, but her feet still propelling her like a human.

  Dimly she realized this half state had never happened to her before, but she didn’t care. She turned a snarl on Graham that made him blink.

  “This isn’t you,” she shouted, her voice coming out guttural and strange. “You didn’t do this.”

  Graham glared at the refs. “Get this bitch out of the ring.”

  One of the refs started forward, but when Iona swung on him, he slunk back. Iona ran the final steps to Eric’s side and dropped to him, lifting the leopard and cradling him against her.

  She smelled another scent similar to Eric’s and saw Jace land next to her. “She’s right,” Jace said to the refs. “This isn’t because of the fight. I’ve seen this before. Collar malfunction.”

  “Which means I win,” Graham said. “The alpha is down.”

  Iona flowed back to her full human self, still holding Eric’s wildcat. Her shirt was torn, her black lace bra visible in the wide gap, and she couldn’t be bothered to care.

  “Eric, I’m here.” Iona stroked his fur, never minding the blood. His wiry coat covered a heavily muscled body, which was hot but trembling all over.

  As she smoothed his fur, Eric’s shaking calmed a little, though his moans of pain didn’t cease. Iona felt him start to shift, this one difficult for him.

  He took a long time to change to human, and when the wildcat vanished, Eric was curled up, fetal position, half in Iona’s lap, skin covered with dirt and blood.

  Graham stood next to them, his massively muscular legs also covered in blood. “I win the Challenge,” he declared. “The mate-claim is mine.”

  Iona looked up at him, meeting his alpha stare. “You didn’t win, you asshole. He’s hurting from something else. He was beating you!”

  The flash in Graham’s gray eyes told Iona she was right about that and he knew it. “All I see is Warden on the ground, and me standing over him. I’ve won you, bitch. Get it through your head.”

  The refs closed into a knot with each other a few yards away, talking rapidly. The rest of the crowd alternated between concern for Eric, anger at the refs, and yelling for Graham’s blood. Diego, Shane, and Xavier positioned themselves around Eric, Jace, and Iona, the solid barrier of their legs comforting.

  One of the refs broke from the other three. He addressed the crowd, keeping his colleagues between himself and Graham. “The fight’s a draw. No winner.”

  The crowd screamed its approval, though shouts for Eric to rip open Graham continued. Graham snarled, but the man had the good sense not to dispute in a crowd that clearly hated him.

  “Then the Challenge stands,” Graham said in a loud voice, cutting over the noise. “Another time and place, Warden. I’ll win her.”

  Eric’s eyes were still closed, his breathing labored. Iona gently moved him to Jace’s lap, then she stood up.

  Graham didn’t move as Iona stepped toe-to-toe with him and looked up at his tall bulk. Graham’s gaze swept over her open shirt and bra, but Iona didn’t have time to worry about it.

  “Eric,” she said in a clear, loud voice, still looking at Graham. “I reject your mate-claim.”

  “What?” Jace bellowed, and the crowd’s shouting diminished into startled murmurs.

  “I said, I reject Eric’s mate-claim,” Iona said, holding Graham with her gaze. “Cass, does that mean that Graham’s mate-claim is good, and the Challenge is no longer necessary?” Cassidy had been teaching her about Shifter rules all day. Archaic, Iona found them, but she was starting to understand how they worked.

  “Yes,” Cassidy said with reluctance.

  Graham smiled down at Iona, his teeth still pointed like his wolf’s. “Yes,” he said in triumph.

  “Good.” Iona smiled too, hers so full of malice that Graham’s faded. “In that case, Graham McNeil, in front of witnesses, I reject your mate-claim.”

  The Shifters roared with laughter and appreciation. Some applauded. Graham’s snarl returned. “You fucking—”

  “Eric told me you hate Felines,” Iona interrupted him. “You don’t want me as mate, you only want to take me away from Eric. So stop this bullshit and make your fights about what really matters.”

  Graham’s eyes were flat with rage, but something else glimmered in there—approval? Maybe even respect? No, couldn’t be.

  Graham motioned for his seconds, who came forward with his clothes. “You really are a bitch, you know? Warden can have you. That means, when I take him down, you go with him. The leader and his alpha mate burn together.”

  “I’m not his mate,” Iona said, never taking her eyes from Graham’s. “I just rejected his claim—weren’t you listening?”

  “Oh, you’re his mate, sugar,” Graham said, sliding a T-shirt over the drying blood on his torso. “You are so his mate. The blessings of the Goddess be upon you.”

  Giving Iona a final sneer, Graham turned his back on her and walked away, grabbing the rest of his clothes as he went. The crowd, as much as they’d chanted for Graham’s blood, parted to let him through.

  You are so his mate. Graham had said the words derisively but with conviction. Iona thought of the black fury that had risen in her at the sight of Graham ripping into Eric, and watched the wolf go in stunned silence.

  “Iona.” Eric’s voice was weak, and Iona’s fear returned. She knelt next to him again, touching him, her pulse speeding.

  “Iona, mate of my heart,” Eric rasped. “Please, get me the fuck out of here.”

  Graham went home to the house in Shiftertown he’d commandeered on arrival, and showered off the blood and grime of the fight. He hurt like a son of a bitch, his chest gouged by Eric’s wide claws, a piece of his shoulder ripped by the wildcat’s teeth.

  In the mirror, he studied the bruising on his neck caused by his Collar that had continuously shocked him during the fight. Shifters down here went to that fight place for fun? They had to be seriously crazy.

  Admittedly, it had been good to get his adrenaline going, to work off his frustration on his biggest obstacle—Warden. Fighting him had given Graham a new appreciation for Eric’s strength. The man wasn’t leader b
y chance. Eric would be tough to beat.

  Strange that Eric’s Collar hadn’t gone off at all, even though the man had gone down, writhing in pain, and not because of anything Graham had done. Eric’s cub had claimed that a Collar malfunction had taken Eric down, but Graham doubted that. Something was going on, and Graham would find out what.

  He’d lathered off with the new soaps his nephews had been buying at the nearby grocery store. They smelled girly, but they got him cleaner than he’d been in a long time. The supplies up in his old Shiftertown had been meager.

  Graham’s energy was still high when he emerged from the steamy bathroom, despite his wounds and Collar fatigue. He could either walk around Shiftertown and listen to people crowing that Graham had lost the fight—which was bullshit—or get out of here for a while.

  Dougal and Chisholm had talked about a bar called Coolers, which admitted Shifters, so Graham went there to see what the place was like.

  Full of Shifter groupies, Graham saw when he walked in. He wrinkled his nose at their rank scent.

  Shifter groupies admired and copied all things Shifter—many wore fake Collars, and some made up their faces to resemble wildcats or wolves, complete with whiskers and fake ears. The groupies, both male and female, for some reason loved to hang out around Shifters, talking to them, having sex with them, or just being near them.

  A few groupies had hung around Graham’s Shiftertown in northern Nevada, but not many. A person had to be dedicated to drive out to the middle of nowhere in hopes of seeing a Shifter.

  Not many Shifters were here tonight, Graham noticed as the bartender shoved a foaming mug of beer at him. They were either still at the fight club, which was having more fights that evening, or back in Shiftertown supporting Eric.

  That Iona woman was a feisty bitch. Graham had barely contained his amazement when she’d got in his face and told him, basically, to fuck off.

  He had to chuckle, even through his anger. She’d been feeling the female’s need to protect her mate, the instinct that overrode every ounce of common sense and turned females into furious balls of sparking crazy. Eric was going to have his hands full with her.