Hard Mated (7 page)

Myka arranged a light blanket over him and straightened up to find Spike two inches away.

He was looking at Jordan, not her, and the hollow pain in his eyes made her stop.

“Spike?” she whispered.

“Eron,” he said.

“What?”

“My real name. It’s Eron.”

Spike reached down and stroked Jordan’s hair, the movement gentle. Myka never would have thought that those blunt, fighter’s hands could touch so tenderly, but the caress was everything that was tender.

Spike stood up abruptly and walked out of the room. Myka adjusted the blanket again and tiptoed after him, reaching the living room in time to see Spike pull on his jeans and shirt, not bothering with underwear. All commando, he sat on the couch and tugged Myka down beside him.

“What am I gonna do?” he asked.

Sympathy touched Myka—the man really had no idea what he’d gotten himself into. “He’s your kid, Spike—Eron. It’s up to you.”

“Shit.”

Spike studied his hands, big and sinewy, the hands that had caught Jordan in midair without effort, then stroked his cub’s hair with such lightness.

“I used to follow the rodeo circuit,” Myka said. “I’ve seen the same look that’s on your face now on guys who came off bulls that were too tough to ride. You know, the whacked-up-the-side-of-the-head look.”

Spike turned his hands over and examined the scarred backs. “I never got why humans have to prove they can ride on the back of a pissed-off bull. A Shifter would just make the bull do what he wanted.”

“You’re changing the subject,” Myka said.

“I’ve never had a cub before.”

“No kidding.”

They both went silent. Spike had pulled her to sit close to him. Their thighs touched, his large and warm.

Myka heard Ella moving around upstairs, dressing or washing up or something. She’d come down any second and break this up—wouldn’t she?—before Myka couldn’t handle it anymore.

“Stay here and help me take care of him,” Spike said.

Myka blinked at him. “Sorry?”

“Jordan knows you, and he likes you. You helped Jillian take care of him, right?”

“Sure, but . . .”

Spike looked away again, a strong, strong man who had no clue what to do. Kids did that to a person.

“Spike . . . Eron . . . If you really can’t take care of Jordan, Jillian’s mom is fine with doing it. We’ll fix it up to make Jillian’s mom his guardian. You can come around and teach him about being Shifter and still be his dad, but you won’t have the day-to-day responsibility of taking care of him.”

Myka thought Spike would let out a sigh of relief and turn a grateful gaze to her, but his body tensed, and the look on his face was one of pure rage.

“No.” He got to his feet, anger in every movement. “He’s my
cub
. He stays here.”

“You just said you needed help . . .”

“Help, yeah. Not for you to come and take him away from me.”

Myka jumped up, her temper stirring again. “I’m not trying to take him away . . . No, all right, maybe I am. You’re a fighter, and a Shifter, and he was happy living with his grandma. Giving him to you was Jillian’s idea, not mine. I didn’t want you to have him.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because who are you? You’re the guy who did a one-night stand with my best friend and got her pregnant. How does that qualify you for being a good dad?”

“I’m his
dad
. Doesn’t matter if I’m a good one or not!”

“Like hell. Take it from me. I had the shittiest dad in the world. He wasn’t even my dad—he was my stepfather, but he wouldn’t let me go, and he made my life a living hell.”

Myka snapped her mouth shut, bile boiling up inside her throat. Damn it, why had she said that?

Spike stared down her, his eyes flicking back to human, the irises warm and brown. “What did he do to you?”

“It’s not important. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Myka felt herself closing down, shutting that part of herself away.
Don’t show it, don’t remember, don’t feel. He’s gone, you’re free. It was a long time ago.

Spike put his fingers under her chin, turning her face to him. “Tell me.”

“I said, I don’t want to.”

He took a step closer. Now his heat floated over her, bare skin and jeans.

“He hurt you.” Spike’s voice gentled, the gruffness entirely gone. His dark eyes fixed on her, the compassion there startling. “I see it in you.” His touch gentled too, turning to a caress.

“Yes.” Myka swallowed, eyes burning. “I always tried to be the perfect kid, to do everything right, you know? I tried so hard. But I never could be good enough.”

“And he beat you for it, and made you think it was your fault.”

“Yeah. How did you know?”

“Because my granddad did that to me. Granddad was our clan leader, and he was half-crazy, but no one could take him down. I tried to learn to be strong so he’d like me, but he never did. He just beat on me. Took me a long time to realize that him beating on me wasn’t my fault. That whatever I did, I couldn’t have ever pleased him, because he was the kind of person who refused to be pleased.”

After her stepfather’s death, Myka had considered going to therapy, but she’d shied away from it, not wanting to bare her soul. Now Spike, a Shifter she’d just met, was baring her soul for her. “That’s exactly right.”

“My dad didn’t hurt me,” Spike said. “But he wasn’t strong enough to stand up to
his
dad, and stop him. I’ll never be like either of them with my son.”

Myka’s fingers trembled. “Promise?”

“I swear by the Goddess and the Father God and on the sacred Sword of the Guardian.”

The way he said it told her that these were oaths he took seriously. Myka reached for the hand that caressed her cheek and folded her fingers around it. “Good.”

He leaned closer. “I’ll never hurt him, Myka.”

“Good,” she said again.

His breath touched her skin, his fight-worn hand closing around hers. His lips were a whisper away. Myka found herself rising on tiptoes, and she kissed him.

They stood fused, frozen for a stunned moment.

Then Spike slid a strong hand behind Myka’s neck, pulled her up to him, and turned the kiss bruising.

Chapter Eight

It hurt Myka, and it didn’t. Spike’s kiss, his touch, opened her, shattering the barrier she’d thrust up between them—the one she thrust up between herself and everyone. Myka couldn’t afford to be vulnerable ever again.

Spike’s mouth was hot, his lips strong. The pressure made her open her mouth to his, welcoming the firm strokes of his tongue. He tasted her, and she tasted him back, her hands moving to his shoulders, gripping. His muscles were hard under her fingertips—pressing didn’t make a dent.

The kiss was like sudden sunshine after a winter storm. The ice shards inside her couldn’t withstand it. Spike held Myka hard, as though he feared she’d pull away, while his mouth pinned her and didn’t let go.

Spike slid his hand down her back, kneading warmth there. Cradling her, holding on. He pulled her tighter as the wild kiss went on, her body the length of his, the hard planes of his chest pressing every inch of her breasts.

Myka’s thoughts shut down, tactile senses taking over. There was only warmth, the plying of his mouth, his hands holding her, his body against hers.

For Spike’s part, everything feral in him roared to the surface. Myka’s scent, the feel of her body, her taste, the soft sound she made in her throat—awakened the beast. He wanted her, he needed her soft flesh against his in the night.

Her mouth was small and lush, lips forming to his. She dug at his shoulders with hard fingers, wanting to pull him into her, and Spike was happy to go. He slid his hand to her buttocks, scooping her up, need tearing at him like a crazed thing.

He tasted the pain in her and wanted to make it all better. He’d sweep her up and shut out the world, sink into the goodness of her. The curve of her buttocks under his hand beckoned his tongue, her hair warmed his fingers, and she smelled like honey and sugar. If he licked her all over, would she taste as sweet?

The floor creaked upstairs again. Myka jumped in his arms, hands sliding from his shoulders to his chest, trying to push him away.

Spike jerked her closer, hand firming on her ass. Who cared if his grandmother came down and caught them? She was Shifter; she’d understand. She knew what loneliness was.

Lonely. So lonely. Stay with me.

Myka gasped, and Spike broke the kiss.

She was breathing hard, her pupils spreading but her body shaking. His instincts screamed at him to take Myka upstairs, lock her into his room with him, and not let her go until they’d made a couple more cubs to go with Jordan. Nature wanted him to do this, and Spike’s mind wasn’t fighting nature too much. But there was more at stake right now.

Spike had the hardest time asking for anything, let alone pleading for it. Warrior Shifters didn’t plead. They killed, they gloated over their enemy’s body, they sated themselves on the first woman they saw after that, then they got up the next morning and did it all over again.

Spike caressed Myka’s hand between both of his and met her eyes over it. “I need you to help me.” He dredged up the word inside him.
“Please.”

Myka hesitated. She’d say no, she’d walk out, get into her pickup and drive away, leaving him watching after her, bereft. Warrior Shifters were never bereft . . . which was a big, fat lie.

Myka let out her breath. It whooshed over his fingertips, sending a tingle through his veins that went straight to his cock.

“All right,” she said. “I’ll stay. Jordan needs looking after. For a little while.”

Spike kissed her mouth again, tongue gliding over her parted lips.

A little while was fine. Gave him plenty of time.

*** *** ***

Ella came hurrying down the stairs as Myka held on to Spike’s hand and wondered what she’d gotten herself into.

“Liam’s coming,” Ella said. “I saw him from the window. Spike, what did you do?”

“Who’s Liam?”

Ella’s brow furrowed, her eyes flicking to Shifter. Spike tensed again, the ease Myka had felt in him when she’d promised to stay a while vanishing. He strode to the door and opened it.

“Who’s Liam?” Myka repeated.

“The Shiftertown leader,” Ella said. “He’d never come here, to our territory, uninvited, if there wasn’t a problem.”

Myka went to Spike’s side at the open door. He moved to put himself in front of her, guarding her, she realized. She peered around his large body, expecting a monster to come running up the steps, snarling and ready to kill.

What she saw was a tall man in jeans and T-shirt strolling up the sidewalk, his long body as graceful in movement as Spike’s. Sunshine gleamed on his black hair, the sunglasses he wore against the bright afternoon, and the black and silver Collar around his neck.

He stopped at the base of porch steps, took off the sunglasses, and looked up at Spike with very blue eyes.

“Spike, lad, can I talk to you?”

The man asked, but his body language told Myka he expected Spike to agree. Spike’s body language said that he wanted to do anything but. Her work with horses had taught her that animals didn’t need words to speak volumes, and Myka saw forcefully that these two men were more animal than human.

Spike made a conceding gesture, and Liam came up the steps, in no hurry. He stopped in the middle of the porch, then his gaze moved around Spike to Myka and stayed there.

The man looking out of the very blue eyes had seen many things and suffered hardships, the scars of them evident in the weight of his stare.

“Who’s this?” he asked, an Irish lilt to his voice.

“Her name’s Myka,” Spike said. “She’s under my protection.”

Liam’s gaze shot to Spike again, leaving Myka alone. “Oh, aye?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Liam looked back at Myka and drew a sharp breath through his nostrils, then he frowned. “Not mate-claimed.”

“Not yet,” Spike said.

“Hmm.”

Spike stepped out onto the porch. He folded his arms and stood in front of Liam, effectively blocking Liam’s way into the house, not that Liam made any indication he wanted to enter. But Spike was positioned so that if Liam tried to go for Myka or Ella, he’d have to first get past Spike.

“And your cub?” Liam asked. “He’s all right?”

“He’s sleeping.”

“Good for the lad. A little peace and quiet for you too, eh?” Liam smiled, a warm, charming smile that told Myka he could really turn it on when he wanted to. “We can do his naming this Sunday. Sound fine to you?”

“What do you want, Liam?” Spike asked.

Liam’s smile dimmed, but only a little. “I always wondered what would happen if you became a dad, had a family. Now I know. You’re standing there wantin’ to tell me to go to hell.” He chuckled. “My most loyal of trackers has found his teeth.”

Spike didn’t relax. He and Liam were about the same size, Spike’s bare muscles glistening with sweat, Liam’s mostly hidden by his shirt. If they’d been alley cats, they’d be circling each other, sizing each other up, deciding whether to make the first move, or whether it would be too dangerous to follow through.

Myka didn’t want to wait. She pushed her way past Spike and marched onto the porch, evading Spike who tried to grab her.

“What did you come over for?” she asked Liam. “Seems like it’s a big deal that you did, instead of calling first.”

The only move Liam made was to bend his head to look down at Myka. Behind Spike, Ella made a soft sound of fear, but Liam did nothing more threatening than stare. The power of his gaze, however, made Myka want to take a step back.

She made herself not move. Horses played this power game, and Myka always made sure she won. She had to, or she couldn’t do her job.

Spike, on the other hand, snarled, a low rumbling noise that held dire warning. He skimmed around Myka in one swift movement, his hand coming up to Liam’s throat.

But when Spike would have closed on the other man’s neck, Liam wasn’t there.

Liam now stood four feet away from Spike down the porch, just out of arm’s reach. Myka didn’t remember seeing Liam move, but she felt the breeze of his passing touch her face.