Mate Claimed (8 page)

“Sounded bad, how?” Diego’s voice betrayed no worry, but then, he wouldn’t be good as head of a security company if he let himself sound anxious.

“Weak, tired. Not like himself.”

More silence. Iona wished she could see what he was doing on the other end of the line.

“Ms. Duncan?”

“Still here.”

“Thanks for calling,” Diego said. “I’ll take care of this.”

“Good. Thanks. I just wanted to…”

“Yeah?” He sounded impatient, ready to go.

“Nothing. Thanks. I hope he’s all right.”

“I’m sure he’s fine. Good-bye, Ms. Duncan.”

She echoed his good-bye and hung up.

There. She’d done something about it. Diego Escobar was Eric’s family, and he’d make sure all was well.

But Iona was restless. She told herself it was none of her business whether Eric was running around, healthy and fine, or passed out in his bed. The only thing she should be concerned about was having to work with him to build the houses.

So why did she itch to jump in her truck and charge to Shiftertown to see if he was all right?

Iona tried to get back to work. She had accounts to go over and bills to pay, but she found herself sitting at her desk with her fingers unmoving on the keyboard, staring at the numbers on the screen without seeing them.

“Iona, I found the shoes.” Nicole breezed in with a big shopping bag, talking before she even got inside the door. Nicole was a younger version of their mother, with her same dark brown hair, blue eyes, compact body, and round face. “I was going to get the ones we saw at the bridal store, but then I walked by this boutique, and they had the
perfect
shoes in the window. They’re not really wedding shoes, but I don’t care. I fell in love with them.”

Iona got up and walked around the desk, forcing herself to pay attention. “Doesn’t matter. For your wedding, you should have what you love.”

The shoes were gorgeous, high-heeled white Mary Jane’s with tiny pink rosettes across the straps, the exact color of the flowers Nicole had chosen. Nicole held up one shoe, cradling it in her hands.

Any other time, Iona would be all over them, but worry about Eric was distracting her. “Nice,” she said.

Nicole’s face fell. “You don’t like them. I knew I should have bought the satin ones—I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ll take them back…”

“Nicole. Nikki.” Iona stepped in front of her sister and rubbed her shoulders. “Stop it. I love the shoes. Really. They’re great.”

“That’s not what your face said.” Nicole dropped the bag and the shoe. “Iona, I’m so scared I’m going to screw something up. This is supposed to be the happiest time of my life, and I keep changing my mind about everything and wanting to break down and cry every five minutes.”

“Nicole, you’re getting married and planning a big wedding. Give yourself a break.”

“I run a business with you and mom, a man’s business. I know all about stress. Why am I getting so crazy?”

“Come here.” Iona opened her arms and pulled her sister close. Nicole rested her head on Iona’s shoulder, letting out a little sigh.

Iona had always found great comfort in embracing her mother and sister.
The calming power of the hug
, she’d always said. Whenever Eric hugged her, though, Iona found herself torn between drinking in the comfort and wanting to jump his bones.

Eric had nudged Iona’s Shifter sense of smell awake this afternoon. She hadn’t been able to shut it off since, and so as she hugged Nicole, she scented, loud and clear, that Nicole hadn’t only gone shopping on her lunch hour. Her very long lunch hour.

Iona smelled Tyler, Nicole’s fiancé, along with the sticky sweet smell that came with sex. She wanted to smile. Nicole and Tyler had met for a nooner.

She also scented something else. She didn’t exactly recognize it, but the panther instinctively knew what it was. Maybe she sensed a shift in Nicole’s hormones, maybe she could already scent the second life inside her sister, or maybe this came from Iona’s mating instincts ready to come out and play.

Whatever it was, Iona knew that her sister’s urge to cry came from more than stress.

“Nicole,” she said carefully. “Maybe you should have a checkup before the wedding.”

Nicole’s head popped off Iona’s shoulder. “Why? You think there’s something wrong with me?”

“No, no,” Iona said quickly. “But I think you should.”

Nicole took a step back. “What’s wrong? Your eyes have gone all…Shifter.”

Iona blinked, trying to make her eyes behave. Any trigger of adrenaline and her pupils would become catlike, slits of black in light blue irises.

“Nothing’s wrong,” she said. “I promise. Everything’s right.”

“Iona, when you get weird like this, you scare me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Her sister’s distress poured off her in waves. She cried out for reassurance, the scent of that stirring Iona’s protective instincts even more.

Iona put her hands on Nicole’s shoulders again. “You’re pregnant.”

Nicole stared in shock. “What are you talking about? I am not.”

“Yes, you are. Don’t ask me how I know. I just…
know
.”

“You have to be wrong. Tyler and I agreed to wait to have kids.”

Iona grinned. “Well, the kid didn’t wait to have you. Go get a checkup. If I’m wrong, I’m wrong.” But Iona wasn’t. She knew it in her bones.

“How can you possibly tell?” Now Nicole looked angry.

“I told you, don’t ask me. But kids are what happens when you have sex. It’s kind of the whole reason sex was invented.”

“But we’re being so careful…” Nicole nearly wailed.

Iona hugged her sister again. “Tell Tyler to check his condoms for holes. Don’t be so upset. This is a wonderful thing.”

“I still think you’re wrong.”

“Doesn’t matter what I think. Go have the damn checkup.”

Nicole burst out laughing. She picked up the shoe she’d dropped and put it back into the bag. “Okay, I’ll call my doctor. I think you have no idea what you’re talking about, but you’re right. Better to make sure before I drink all that champagne at the wedding.”

“Not to mention the shots at your bachelorette party.”

“Good point.” Nicole picked up the shopping bag and peered again at Iona. “You’d better go home if you can’t keep your eyes under control.”

“I’ll think about it. I have a lot of work to do.”

“I’ll do the work. Get out of here.”

Iona saw that her sister wasn’t going to budge.
Protect Iona
had been the watchwords in the family since she could remember.

No one in the world had known about Iona’s Shifter side but Penny, Nicole, and Howard, Iona’s stepfather. They’d understood why they needed to keep the secret, and they’d done it. But keeping the secret sometimes entailed making sure Iona was out of sight.

“Fine. Want me to take the shoes and drop them off at your house?”

“No, I want to show Mom. Go on, before someone comes in.”

Iona went. She hugged Nicole again, giving her a kiss on her cheek, then put on her sunglasses as she stepped outside, in case her eyes didn’t change back.

She started her red pickup, then ended up with her hands on the wheel, dragging in deep breaths. The wild thing inside was clawing its way up, wanting out, needing release.

Iona still worried about Eric. Diego would look in on him, she tried to reassure herself, but Eric’s voice, his distress, pulled at her. She needed to see him.

No
, she needed to stay away from Shiftertown.

But she needed to see him.

Iona clenched the wheel. Her hands sprouted claws, black fur rippling down her fingers.
Damn it.

She forced her claws to be fingers again, put the truck in gear, and backed out of her place. She sped out into thick traffic, the commuters from Las Vegas heading home to Henderson and outlying areas.

Iona strove to drive carefully, but every time someone cut her off or tried to shove her out of her lane, the beast in her snarled.

This wasn’t road rage—she wanted to
kill
. She could taste it, felt the need to have hot blood filling her mouth.

Her hands changed to panther again, and Iona lost hold of the wheel. Shit. Iona grabbed it again, willing her hands to change back to human.

Hold it together, hold it together.

Eric’s visit had roused the Shifter in her. Iona had tried to keep the Shifter side of her quiet and out of sight all her life, suppressing the animal so she could live in peace and safety. Eric was goading that animal to become part of her everyday life, whether Iona liked it or not.

He’d showed her how to open herself to her sensitive sense of smell. Now scents poured in at her so thick and fast she couldn’t process them. Iona glanced at the man in the car next to her, and knew that, if she decided to, she could break through his window, grab him, and rip out his throat.

Just get home.

Iona drew a breath, slid her pickup into the quieter side streets of her neighborhood, and made it to her driveway. She shut off her engine, peeled her fingers from the wheel, and let out a long sigh.

Home. Safety.

Her next-door neighbor’s cat bounded over, a sleek black-and-white with a black patch over one eye. He jumped onto the hood of Iona’s truck and let out a meow.

Iona slid out of the truck and reached out to give Pirate a stroke as she went by. He liked Iona—most cats did.

Pirate drew back in alarm, flattened his ears, and hissed, before leaping down from the truck and running back home.

Hissing was defensive behavior, what a cat did when it perceived a threat. Pirate had seen the aggressor in Iona, even though she’d meant to caress, and had decided to get the hell out of there.

Iona hurried inside the house, shutting the door firmly and locking it with shaking fingers. She pulled out a bottle of merlot and poured a tall glass while she tried to think of something for an early dinner.

Except she wanted only meat, cooked rare if at all. Or maybe fish. She found herself diving through her freezer, searching frantically for something to satisfy her hunger, finding nothing.

“Fresh vegetables,” she said, pulling out bags from her crisper drawer. “Just why?”

Takeout. She could get takeout. But she didn’t trust herself to drive somewhere and pick up the food. She grabbed the
phone and called her favorite pizza place, ordering three of the all-meat specials. “Having a party, Ms. Duncan?” the order taker asked.

She practically knew the kid, since she ordered from there all the time. “Yes,” she lied. “Can you rush those?”

“Sure thing.”

The pizza took twenty minutes, fast for delivery pizza. Even so, Iona nearly ripped open the door when the car arrived, remembering at the last minute to shove on her sunglasses. She grabbed the pizzas and threw money at the guy, too much, but he deserved a big tip. She slammed the door on his startled expression, and ran back into the kitchen.

“I’m just hungry,” Iona said out loud. “Eric ruined my lunch.”

Eric.

The thought of him brought new hunger, a rising frenzy that wanted her to take Eric by the neck and pull him down to her, to let his body cover hers, to feel his sweat on her skin, his mouth on hers.

“Eat,” she said to the empty kitchen.

The pizzas were slathered with hamburger, sausage, pepperoni, and Canadian bacon. It should have been called The Carnivore Special.

Penny had taught Iona how to eat healthy, nutritious meals. Right now, Iona could care less.

Eric had said,
If you were in your panther form, you wouldn’t worry. You’d gulp it down and spit out the paper.

Substitute
pizza boxes
, and he was right.

Iona got out a plate and napkins before she dumped the pizza onto the plate. She could be civilized.

She growled. The mirror in her dining area told her that her eyes were still Shifter. She moved quickly through the house, closing all the blinds, then tossed off her clothes and let her panther take over.

Much better. Iona padded back into the kitchen, put her paws on the counter, and gulped down the pizzas. All three of them, all that meat and cheese going down fast. The tomato sauce and the crust tasted a little weird to her, but it was a small price to pay for the greasy, hot, spicy
meat.

When the boxes were empty, her panther tongue licking up
the last bit of cheese clinging to the cardboard, Iona burped. Then she sat down and started washing her whiskers.

The pizza filled her up and made her sleepy. Iona didn’t generally remain in her shifted form long, in case someone came over to catch her, but right now, all she wanted to do was curl up on her sofa and sleep. She went slowly to her living room, climbed onto the nice cushy sofa, and let her body go limp.

I
ona jumped awake to find everything dark. She lifted her head, startled to find herself still panther. Her claws had dug a deep gouge in her sofa, she saw with her cat vision. Crap.

She stepped down from the sofa and stretched. She was supposed to feel better—fed, rested, the worry of the day behind her.

Instead, she was restless, pacing, growling to herself. She needed to shift back to human.

And found she didn’t want to. She wanted to run, to hunt, to
kill.
She
needed
to.

She remembered the scent of lovemaking on Nicole, the heightened warmth of the baby inside her, and started to wind up again. Iona needed that, the smell of sex, the heat of a male body on hers, wanted to press her hand to her own abdomen and know that life was growing there.

She needed it
now.

Iona forced herself back to human. The shift took a long time, and hurt, more so than usual, her panther reluctant to let go.

She stood in the middle of the hallway between living room and kitchen, shaking. The mirror there showed her black hair a mess, her eyes enormous and still Shifter.

Iona snatched up her phone and started punching numbers.

He answered this time. Thank God.

“Eric,” she said frantically. “Eric, I need you.”