Chapter Seven
Three days later, she still shivered in reaction to his words. The promise had been more of a vow, and it sank into her very marrow like a comforting blanket, wrapping her up in his oath to always be there for her—to never leave her.
Jake had made her a vow, one she’d recited back to him, one he’d broken, unwillingly, but broken nonetheless. But that promise was different from the one Mundo made her. She and Jake had known each other through college, had lived together first and then married. She’d known all his quirks, all his faults by the time she’d even thought about a wedding dress, and she’d loved him because of and despite of those unique aspects of his nature. He’d done the same with her.
That was how marriage worked, wasn’t it? Accepting the good and the bad in equal measure. Loving that person you decided to dedicate yourself to regardless of those irritating quirks that they had, even going so far as come to need them.
When Jake had died, she’d wished like hell she hadn’t ridden him so hard about never picking up after himself. As he’d lay there in the hospital, his last breath a mere day or so away, hadn’t she pleaded with God for Him to heal her husband? Hadn’t she promised that she’d never get mad at him for dumping dirty towels on the floor in the bedroom, or leaving wet dishtowels beside the laundry basket instead of in it?
Those petty flaws of his had become necessary to her when the threat of them being taken from her had seemed likely. But she’d chosen to live with those flaws. Only, in this, with a mate, there were no choices. They didn’t have to have a say in the matter. Whoever the Goddesses, as Mundo called them, lumped you with, you were stuck with them.
It seemed like a pretty undemocratic way of living to her, but then, she was human. She ascribed to the mentality of free will. It seemed Shifters were completely different—in more ways than one, as she was coming to learn.
For three days, she and Mundo had been living in her apartment. They had yet to have full-on, penetrative sex, mostly because when the time came for them to get down and dirty, the most bizarre thoughts came to her. She didn’t want him inside her. Oh no, this freaky, frisky creature Mundo had awakened wanted him anywhere but.
He’d climaxed on her belly, her breasts, her legs. Even her feet hadn’t been spared when she’d given him a ‘foot’ job—an act the crazed lunatic of a beast inside her had urged to do. She’d never been more grateful for the fact she went to the salon once a month for a mani/pedi. Even now, the thought of seeing her toes, with the glossy black nails covered in spunk, made her shudder. He’d slid through the folds of her sex, using her juices and his cum as a lube, riding her there, nudging her clit with every thrust until he’d come all over her pussy again.
It was insane the number of ways they’d managed to have sex without actually having sex.
Mundo was relatively relaxed about the whole situation, and though it was wrong to continuously compare him to Jake, she couldn’t seem to stop doing it. Jake, in all their years of being a couple, had never been all that into foreplay. If for three days straight that was all they’d done, she knew her husband would have had a major sulk on.
Mundo, on the other hand, was content. Whenever she looked at him, whether he was eating, sleeping, or bathing, he wore a smile that spoke of his deep and utter satisfaction with the status quo. And when he told her about Shifter culture, how even in his MC there was only one other male with a proper mate, she guessed she could understand. Those smiles spoke of his gratitude, and he showered her with that gratitude every moment he could. It was a luxury she didn’t feel too guilty about acclimating to. So, rather than be sulky or annoyed at not getting in on with her properly, he seemed to be enjoying the call of the Goddesses. The latter was what she called the lunatic beast inside her, but his ‘call of the Goddesses’ shit freaked her out all the more. She was getting more adept at hiding it though.
The thought prompted a smile out of her, and she burrowed her face between Mundo’s shoulders, snuggling deeper into him. They hadn’t left the bedroom all that much in the past three days, and the scent of sex was starting to fill the air—maybe because most of it was going on to the damn sheets rather than in a condom!
The call of everyday life was beckoning though, because she was running out of bedclothes and soon would have to do the laundry. And while she’d enjoyed the binge food they’d been eating—all take out and easy to throw out once they’d done—she wanted something wholesome and fresh tonight. Plus, she’d been calling in sick every morning. It wasn’t a lie, but neither was it something she could get a sick note for.
What the hell would a doctor say if she went to them and said, “I need time off to screw my new Shifter lover. Can I have a sick note for work?”
Yeah, she could really see that working out—not.
For the first time in too many years, her days were filled with love, and she hated the idea that life was going to intrude on it. She adored how close they were, spending as much time as they could touching or hugging. Such close, physical contact was something that had been lacking from her world for so long that she was soaking up Mundo’s attention like a sponge. The time they’d spent together could still be quantified in hours, so short a time had they even known one another, and yet the notion of going to work again and not being in close contact made her shiver and huddle closer to him.
“What are you thinking?”
“How do you know I’m thinking anything?” she retorted, surprised to hear his gruff voice. She’d thought he was sleeping.
“Because you keep smiling against my back, or huffing or snorting.”
“I do not snort,” she denied, leaning up just so she could glower down at him, all sadness whipped away by his words.
He rolled over onto his back, a smirk on his chops. “You totally do.” His grin widened when he saw her boobs were bare as the covers had fallen around her hips. He reached over, grabbed one of the heavy globes, and said, “I want to put my head between these and go to sleep.”
“You’d suffocate,” she told him, matter of fact.
“What a way to fucking go, though.”
She snorted.
Dammit!
Glowering at him and his pointed look, she leaned back, taking her breasts with her.
“There’s no need to sulk just because I was right.”
“I’m not sulking. My boobs are.”
He chortled. “Your boobs are mean. Let me make it up to them.” Mundo curled upward into a sitting position, which made his abs bunch and tauten. Christ, she never got sick of looking at his stomach. Her eyes automatically glued themselves to his gut whenever he was naked—which was most of the time. She knew the man was more than his belly, but they were just so… so prominent—and all the more droolworthy because of it.
A finger lifted her chin up, dragging her gaze from his belly to his eyes. “What?” she snapped. “I was busy.”
“Busy drooling. My eyes are up here, darlin’. I’m starting to feel objectified.” His lower lip popped out in a pout.
She snorted. Again. Fuck it. “You should appreciate the fact your mate’s brain goes into lock down whenever she sees your belly.”
His eyes flared at her use of the term, ‘your mate.’ She used it sneakily because his voice always dropped an octave, like her referencing what she was to him really hit him square between the eyes. “Only if my mate can appreciate I do the same when I see her boobs.”
“You don’t just look though, do you?” she retorted snootily. “You jiggle and bounce them too.”
“I’d let you do the same to my stomach, babe, but there isn’t that much to jiggle.” She giggled, because he spoke nothing but the truth. “I have other bits you can play with though,” he carried on teasing, a glint in his eye. Beneath the sheets, his cock started to harden, making a small tent at his groin.
“Someone likes the idea of that,” she remarked knowingly. “I’d be happy to oblige, but I’m hungry. Plus, I need to get out of this apartment. It stinks of sex. Take your mate for food and fresh air, and she might, just might, jiggle and bounce something for you tonight.”
“And let me suffocate in her breasts?”
She rolled her eyes. “Now, why would I let you do that? I like all your parts to be fully functioning. They’re no use to me if they’re stone cold and immobile, are they?”
“Nice to know I’m good for something.”
“You’re good for many things.” She grinned at him then copped a feel of his belly when she put a hand there and used that to support herself as she leaned over and kissed him. “Many, many things.”
He growled when she pulled back and climbed off the bed. He was fast, but she sneaked off the mattress at a speed that shocked even her. She stumbled with the velocity of it, almost crashing into the doorway when she’d been twelve feet away by the bed a second before.
Climbing off the bed was always a task because she was short and the bed was high. She always had to clamber down. Then, normally, at a shuffling-in-slippers pace, it might take five seconds to make it to the door. So, what should have taken around thirty seconds had taken one.
One.
What the fuck?
Carefully turning her head back to him, eyes wide, she gasped, “What the hell was that?”
Mundo looked surprised but unconcerned. Then, as he answered her question, she could sense his satisfaction seeping out. “We’re mating.”
She blinked then planted a hand on her hip. “No shit, Sherlock. Christ, of course we are. That’s what the past three days have been about.”
It was his turn to snort. “I don’t mean that. I mean, the physical mating is leading to the, you know, metaphysical mating. The bond is coming together. You’re taking some of my traits.” Those last words practically oozed satisfaction. “I would never have said you’d take speed though.”
“Why not?” she asked with a huff, planting both hands on her hips this time.
His lips twitched. “I wouldn’t take you for a runner, babe.”
She almost glowered at him but realized there was no criticism within those words. He’d just spent the last seventy-two hours worshiping her every inch. Three days ago, she’d suffered from self-consciousness and self-confidence issues. Not anymore. She couldn’t. Not when he’d salivated over her every curve, jizzed over almost every inch, and tried to kiss any spare part that he’d missed.
There was no way self-consciousness could survive in that kind of habitat.
She’d never have walked around the apartment butt naked before, but now? It was a regular habit.
He’d celebrated all of her, and when you were surrounded in that kind of adoration, hating yourself was just plain stupid.
“I’ve been known to power walk,” she replied instead, and it was a testament to how the man had empowered her that there wasn’t even a tidbit of irritation in her tone. It sucked that it had taken his attentions for her to feel good about herself, but who was she and every other woman kidding? It always felt so damn great when a guy found you hot, and there was no denying that to Mundo, she was up there at boiling point.
He rubbed a hand over his jaw, ignoring her comment to say, “I guess that bodes well. I don’t have to worry about you being in danger anymore. You can just run away.”
“Super dentist,” she said wryly. “I can see it in the papers now.”
“I’ll get you some scrubs with a big ‘S’ on them.” He grunted, then admitted, “I’d have preferred for you to get some of my strength. That would have been far more useful in defending yourself.”
He sounded so down about it that she returned to the bed and reached over for his hand. “It’s okay. Anything’s a bonus, right? And it’s not like we had a say in what I’d get or if I’d get anything at all.” He’d told her that though his mother and father had been mated, she’d not taken on any of his traits.
She guessed this super speed of hers was a testament to the strength of their bond.
It fit. There was no way this sense of rightness could be in any way wrong.
“No, I guess you’re right. We should be thankful for small mercies. But what with you working in prisons and shit, I’d have liked for you to be able to handle yourself better.” His jaw flexed a little and she could see his teeth working. “Have you ever done any self-defense classes, Christie?”
She shook her head. “I always meant to, but I just never got around to it.”
He worked his bottom lip, nipping it between his thumb and forefinger. “Would you consider making it a priority?”
Touched, she smiled. “If it would make you feel better, then of course I will.”
“I mean, I’d teach you myself—” He hesitated. “But my style of fighting isn’t really… Well, it isn’t what I’d like you to learn.”
She laughed. “You mean, rapists have a preference for karate over street brawling?”
“Something like that,” he admitted sheepishly.
Christie shook her head, wondering at her acceptance of the things he said, the things that were a part of his world which were alien to her.
Talks of fighting, period, would have had her running backward out the door with anyone else. And yet, with him? It was Mundo. This mate bond didn’t make her blind to everything going on in his life, and in a way, it illuminated it. But she could temper it, excuse it. He was a Shifter, after all… different than her. She had to accept the myriad ways in which they weren’t the same or give up on them totally. And after three days together, hardly anytime at all, she couldn’t do that.
She simply couldn’t.
That was more astonishing than anything else though—the need she had for him. It swelled inside her, flooding every part until she didn’t know where she began and he ended. It was more than being a soulmate, in a human’s understanding of it, it was everything. It was so overwhelming it could be suffocating but so fulfilling it was like taking a breath of fresh air after being in a stuffy room for too long. The contrasting emotions were enough to give anyone whiplash from being jerked back and forth, side to side, but she’d never felt more replete, never happier and more at ease with herself in the world.
Christie shook off her thoughts before she started feeling guilty about Jake and moved off the bed again. “I’m going to go shower—” She held up a hand to stall him. “You’re not going to join me because if you do, we’ll never get out of here today and I’m getting cabin fever. Then you can take me somewhere. Anywhere you’d like. I’m not fussy,” she murmured with a wink. “But try to impress me, huh?”
He snickered. “No pressure then, eh?”
She shot him another wink then sauntered off to the bathroom, leaving him there to watch her go. She didn’t really put the extra sway in her hips. It was a naturally occurring phenomenon—something that had started to happen ever since Mundo had popped into her world and made her feel like a sex Goddess. She was starting to see how she’d been a sensual creature all along, but she’d never embraced that part of herself—until now.
With a smile, she stared at herself in the mirror after she turned the shower on and left the water to run until it heated up. The woman looking back at her seemed to be a different creature than the one she’d known for three decades. This one had a mysterious glint in her eye, and the Mona Lisa smile totally made sense now. La Giaconda must have been very sexually satisfied was all Christie was saying.
She climbed into the shower and started to wash herself, taking a concerted effort to soap up her chest and belly, thighs, feet, and arms. She was covered in his seed, and the last thing she wanted was someone smelling him on her. Christ, how mortifying would that be? She knew already that Mundo would just love the idea. He smelled her from time to time, pushing his nose behind her ear, nuzzling between her breasts, or taking a whiff of her pussy—which had embarrassed the hell out of her the first time he’d done it. Each time, he’d looked more and more satisfied, and she could only suppose she was smelling more and more like him.
The notion was amusing, in a gross way.
Rinsing off the thick lather of soap, she wondered what tomorrow held. She’d have to go back to work, as would he. They’d have to start making decisions. These few days had been so nice—so wonderfully freeing. The real world beckoned though, and Christie wondered how the pair of them would navigate the difficult waters their unique situations would throw at them.
She just hoped they’d hit a home run with every curve ball life threw their way.
Forty minutes later, they walked out of the building hand in hand and headed for Mundo’s bike, which he’d slipped in between two cars three days earlier. She gawked at the shining beast, which looked so much bigger in the flesh, and then pointed to herself. “You want me to get on that? It’s massive.”
He rubbed his jaw then coughed. “You’re used to riding stallions, Christie. What’s one more?”
She glowered at him then prodded his belly with a finger. “It’s almost as tall as me.” The handle bars came to an end just under her chin, for Christ’s sake. “You won’t crash it, will you?”
Mundo planted his hands on his hips, drawing her gaze to his mighty fine self. He wore clothes for the first time in days, and even then, when he’d first come to the apartment, she hadn’t registered what he was wearing, not really. He had on navy jeans with scuffed knees, a bright white wife beater, his cut, and then a beaten-up leather jacket. Truth was, he hadn’t come dressed to impress, but for all that, he still looked a dish.
The white cotton clung to his stomach, a stomach that now belonged to her, and she could gawk it at whenever she so desired. The jeans cupped his ass almost as well as her palms could, and the leather jacket offset his tawny blond hair, enhancing the highlights, and darkening his golden skin to an olive that made him look Italian. On his feet, he had boots, recently polished by the looks of them, which added to his shit kicker appearance.
If any of her friends or family saw her with Mundo, they’d think she’d lost her mind. She went for guys who wore jeans, yeah, but not with rips in the knees. Normally, her dates wore well-ironed Polo sweaters with a T-shirt underneath and maybe loafers on their feet, usually leather, sometimes suede. Before Mundo, she’d have said that was her favorite understated look on a guy.
And now?
Now, the shit kicker look made her pussy melt.
She knew already that tonight that part of her that was making all the demands would be urging him inside her.
At. Fucking. Last.
She’d been dying to have him fuck her, but whenever the moment came to it, her body wouldn’t let her. She’d needed something else, and those urges had been so major she couldn’t ignore them. She’d had no choice but to listen and fulfill them. She’d never been so out of control of her own body before, and Christie didn’t like it. Only trouble was, she had no say in it. She just had to deal with this particular problem until the Goddesses decided she was mated enough.
“What makes you think I’d crash it?” Mundo growled, exasperation rolling off him in waves, not because of her questioning his abilities, but because he knew she was looking at his abs. How did she know that? He wafted a hand in front of her face. “My head’s up here, babe. I like you looking at my body, but not when I’m trying to reassure you I have no desire to kill you when I’ve just found you.”
She blinked guiltily and mumbled, “Is it my fault you look like a chocolate sundae?”
He frowned then gawked down at himself. “I look like… what?”
“A chocolate sundae. I want to eat you all up,” she admitted on a rush of air. The instant she did, she knew he’d seen the change in her. His eyes widened, his nostrils flared, and he took a quick step toward her. She held up her hands though. She needed to do something with him today, something other than sex, before she went crazy. Her body had made enough demands of her of late. She wanted her mate to woo her, to date her, to feed her. That was more imperative than sex at the moment.
Although it was a close won thing.
Those damned Goddesses were starting to bitch at her.
“We should go back inside,” Mundo said, tone flat. “I know you’re going to argue—” He knew her so well already and she couldn’t help but he pleased by that. “But if your body wants…” He cleared his throat. “Something, then we should heed its call.”
She slashed a hand through the air. “Screw that. I want food, and I want to go on a date with you. Plus, I want to go on a ride too.”
“You’re just being stubborn. You didn’t want to get on the bike a minute ago,” he argued, exasperated.
“I’m entitled to be stubborn. Some Goddesses have control of my libido, and I refuse to let them get away with it for much longer. I want to do something normal with you, Mundo. Is that so hard to understand?” She almost wailed the question and saw his eyes soften in response.
“Only you could get mad at the Goddesses,” he grunted, shaking his head.
Before he could say another word, in agreement or denial, she moved. Only problem was, it was fast. Again. His jaw dropped when he looked at her. She’d gone from standing beside him to straddling the hog and hovering above the leather seat in under a second.
“Oops,” she whispered, darting a look around the area to see if anyone had noticed. But then, that was the beauty of the city, wasn’t it? No one noticed shit if it didn’t involve them. No one seemed to have caught her little faux pas.
“Be careful,” he hissed under his breath as he too shot a quick glance around the area.
She pouted. “It’s not like I can help it.”
“Yeah, you can. By getting your butt back upstairs and doing what your body wants. The more the bond is cemented, the more in control you’ll be.”
Christie pursed her lips. “No. I want to go out.”
“You’re too mule-headed for your own good,” he groused, but he climbed onto the bike in front of her. “I shouldn’t encourage you. You’re the only one who’ll suffer for ignoring your body’s needs.”
She shoved that aside, deciding to ignore her body’s needs as well as his words.
When she said nothing, he sighed then sat back. The instant he did, she let her weight drop onto the seat and immediately snuggled into him. She pressed her hands to his belly, shuddering with delight at the feel of all those hard muscles. He continued grousing. “And don’t think you can feel me up and get away with it.”
“Not trying to get away with anything!” she immediately denied. “Just trying to be safe.”
“So safe you forgot your helmet?”
His wry words had her wincing. “Oh, damn. Yeah, I need one, don’t I?”
“Yeah, you do. But it’s okay. I’m not going to go fast and that can be our first stop. I’m not driving you without a helmet on.”
“But you don’t wear one.”
“No, I don’t need one.”
“So why do I?”
“Why are you arguing? You just admitted yourself that you need one.”
“Yeah, but if you don’t need one, then why do I?”
He sighed. “Because you’re the most important person in the world to me? Because if anything happened to you because you were on this hog, something that could have been minimal if you’d worn a helmet, I would never ever forgive myself.”
She let out a whoosh of breath at the heartfelt earnestness in his tone and that fleeting agonized glance that swept across his face as he spoke. “Oh.” She had no words that could convey how deeply touched she was—had no rebuttal whatsoever.
“Yeah. Oh. It’s a minimal safety precaution. I should have thought of it the day I came to you, but my head was on other things.”
“You mean little head was in control.”
He grunted. “Like your little head wasn’t.”
Christie chuckled. “Yeah. That day, I wore the battery out on my vibrator at work and nearly pulled out a tooth when I was doing a checkup.”
“The mating call was a lot more potent than I ever expected. Hell, what am I talking about, it is more potent. We’re not through it yet.” He glanced with longing up at her apartment. “Are you sure you want to go out?”
“Positive,” she immediately told him, snuggling closer to him, loving the feel of him between her legs. His sigh was belly deep, but he started the engine. The instant it rumbled to life, she shrieked, clinging tighter to him.
Over the call of the motor, he tilted back to ask, “What’s wrong?”
She gulped. Her sensitive pussy was reacting rather strongly to the engine, but it wasn’t like she could tell him that, could she? He’d toss her over his shoulder and drag her upstairs whether she liked it or not.
The idea stuck in her head though—him carrying her like a caveman, taking her back to his lair… She shuddered, knowing she’d make him reenact that for her at some point in the future.
“Nothing’s wrong,” she squeaked instead, sensing he wouldn’t move until he heard from her that she was okay, and she was right. The instant he heard her, he checked his mirrors, looked over his shoulder, and set off.
She almost came the instant he put any speed to the ride. He didn’t even go all that fast but stuck to the speeds allowed within city limits, and though he ducked in between traffic, he wasn’t insane with it. She knew he was driving extra carefully because she was on the back of the bike and she didn’t have a helmet yet, but all her thoughts were suddenly being processed at an agonizingly slow speed because her little head was doing the thinking once again.
She clenched her eyes shut and pressed her face to his back. The smell of the leather was strong, and a notion came to her, unbidden. She opened her mouth around some of the leather and bit down. Hard.
The taste was gross, but the pressure there seemed to ease the pressure down below.
She was so near to climaxing it was a joke.
And then, he did something. She didn’t see what because she was focused inward. Whatever it was, the engine’s rumble turned into a roar, and only the leather between her teeth stopped her from screaming.
The climax that hit her was like nothing she’d never experienced—but that wasn’t a first, not where Mundo was concerned. He was giving her a shitload of firsts, most of them mind-numbingly insane. This orgasm was quick and intense, powerful yet effervescent.
It shot through her blood like a dose of cocaine, making her eyes roll back into her head with the force of it. She clung to him desperately, knowing that she could so easily fall off the back of the bike. The move had her clamping her legs down around the seat though, which only exacerbated the vibration. It pummeled her lower body, taking the pleasure to almost painful proportions.
She was a weeping mess by the time he pulled to a halt. She sagged against him, finally releasing her tight clutch on him and the hog, thanking her God and his Goddesses that the hell was over.
She sucked in a quivery breath once she released the leather, and then seeing the big bite mark on it, winced. She got the feeling this was a prized possession she’d just ruined. How the hell would she explain that to him? Even if he didn’t notice at first, someone else would. Christie could just imagine that embarrassing as hell conversation, and it made her cheeks turn from pink to beet within a handful of seconds.
“How was your first ride, sweetheart?” he asked, turning around to grin at her and breaking her internal diatribe. The instant he saw her though, his eyes widened. “What the hell?”
She gulped. “It was… fun.”
Fun was too weak a word.
“I knew you were scared. I felt you clutching at my stomach that’s why I took it so slow, but you’re crying, baby. Oh shit, I’m so sorry!”
His words were rushed as he tried to turn around, to comfort her she assumed, but Christie just gawked at him in astonishment. That had been slow? How powerful would the hog go if he took it fast? The thought stuck like superglue in her head. Christ, she wanted to know. Now. At the same time, she knew her body was out for the count for a little while. That orgasm had been… shit, it had been like a sugar rush. In fact, no amount of candy and chocolate bars combined would ever equate to the intensity of that hit.
“It’s okay, Mundo,” she told him weakly, managing to stagger off the back of the bike. Only, the instant she did, her legs gave out and she fell to the floor. Thank Christ, his instincts were razor sharp. He reached for her, grabbing her before the bony joints of her knees collided with the hard concrete. Though, as a result of the momentum and the fact he’d kicked out to balance himself as he grabbed her, he sent the bike toppling over.
His speed saved them from being crushed, but the scrape of metal against cement had her wincing. Not that Mundo seemed to care, and somehow she knew this bike had been his everything. Because they were to bikers, weren’t they? They ate, drank, and breathed their bikes. But that had been before her.
God, she was his everything now.
What an awesome responsibility.
What had to be his most prized possession was on the floor at an awkward angle, undoubtedly scratched and scraped to hell, but he was busy checking her over for bruises and bumps—which in the grand scheme of things, could only ever be non-existent considering she hadn’t even hit the ground. He lifted Christie up, helping her stand on still-shaky feet, and then blurted out, “What the hell?” That seemed to be today’s question of choice. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”
She gulped but nodded. “It was a lot more, well, a lot more intense than I thought it would be.” Her tone was as shaky as her feet.
“Intense?” He frowned, looking her up and down. “You weren’t scared?”
Christie licked her lips. “The vibrations…”
When her voice wandered off, he shot her a look, glanced at the bike, and then his eyes widened. “You mean you…?” He made a vague shape with his hands then pointed at the hog again. “It made you…?”
She covered her face with her fingers. “Oh God, this is so embarrassing.”
He chuckled then pressed a hand to his mouth to hide his smile—it didn’t work. She knew exactly what he was doing and couldn’t blame him. Hell, if she wasn’t so embarrassed, she’d laugh too.
“Well, if it was with anyone else I’d understand why you’d feel uncomfortable, but not with me.” He curled an arm about her shoulders and held her close. Kissing her temple, he murmured, “I’m glad to have hit another first with you.”
Christie moaned in mortification. “I can’t believe that happened. It came out of nowhere.”
He waited a second then whispered, “Literally.” When she elbowed him in the side, he laughed a little harder and said, “Come on, babe, let’s get you a helmet.”
“You don’t seriously expect me to get on that thing again, do you?” She gawked at him in disbelief then gawked harder at the still-downed bike.
Almost like he realized he hadn’t lifted the Harley up too, he said, “Are you good to stand by yourself?” That he even had to ask the question had her cheeks burning again, but she nodded, smiling a little as he squeezed her shoulders in silent reassurance that he was close then tentatively let go of her. More humiliation struck at how hard she had to tense the muscles in her legs to stop from buckling again. Those twenty minutes on the back of that damned thing had wrecked her up something good, or bad. Those damn Goddesses had so much to answer for!
Christie was grateful that he moved like lightning, righting the bike and getting it back on its feet before coming back to her side and holding her up again.
He let her right herself once more, apparently sensing she was still shaky. After a handful of minutes, Mundo looked at her, scanned her over, and then nodded as though he knew she was better now. And his instincts were spot on. Her knees had starch again, and Christie was more mortified than anything else, but still, it felt good to be close to him. Those stupid Goddesses were really punishing her for daring to leave the apartment when her body, i.e. they, were telling her not to.
Mundo’s steps were slow as they wandered into a small bike shop. The front of the store was a mass of tattoo-like designs tagged onto the walls. They were glossy though, not just painted on, which raised the standard up a notch. But when they walked in, she gasped at the number of bikes, the number of accessories, as well as the ‘shop’ part of the building. Workmen were working on bikes right next to the merchandise! There had to be thousands upon thousands of dollars’ worth of gear in this place.
“This is your shop, isn’t it?” she whispered, gawking around at all the shiny beasties before her. Her nose curled at the smell that was unique to workshops—motor oil, cold air, and that weird earthy tang that made no sense considering everything was most definitely man made in here.
“Yeah,” he replied, preening a little. His chest puffed out, making her hide a smile as he helped her past a line of Harleys that shone brighter than the small diamond studs in her ears and then onto a wall of different accessories. He took her down the bottom of the aisle and asked, “Which one do you like?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’m going to look like a jelly bean.”
He snorted. “How do you reason that?”
“It’s shiny, and if I wear leathers or something, I’ll look shiny too. A big jelly bean.”
“If you wear leathers, we might not get out on the bike at all.” He waggled his eyebrows to show her he was joking, but she knew he wasn’t.
She curled her lips inward to hide her smile but failed, and that had his eyes widening in response.
“You would?” he asked, his tone close to scandalized.
“I would.” She waited a breath. “If I didn’t look like a living, breathing jelly bean.”
His grin was all ‘aw shucks,’ but it was adorable as hell. She reached up to cup his jaw, stood on tiptoe, and kissed him.
“Jimmy, boy!”
Mundo winked down at her, bussed her lips again then grinned. “Hank, you old sonuvabitch.” He turned his head, and Christie mimicked him, peering around Mundo’s back because he was too damned tall for her to see whose mother her mate was maligning.
“Who’s this?”
“I think you know who,” came the quick retort as a wizened old man trod down the aisle to join them.
“She must be damn special if you’ve brought her to your lair…”
Mundo rolled his eyes. “That’s great, Hank, let’s encourage my mate to think I’m either Batman or a serial killer.”
Hank stopped in his tracks. “Mate?” He sucked in a huge breath that had Christie fearing for his lungs. He bellowed out the breath in a huge roar, and with a great whack to his chest, strode forward and gave a similar pounding to Mundo’s back. The move would have felled a lesser man—i.e. any dude not a Shifter—but Mundo just rolled with the momentum-shifting hit and clapped Hank back. “Congratulations, son. Who’s the dam?”
Christie blinked at that. “Dam?” she asked quietly, her tone, she’d admit, a little dangerous.
Mundo squeezed her. “That’s just a female bear, sweetness. He means no harm by it.”
“No, I surely don’t,” Hank boomed, leaning down from his six-six height to smile at her. Were they all so damned tall? She wasn’t the shortest woman in the world, but she felt like a pixie around these guys. And no pixie had a butt as big as hers!
When he gingerly reached out a paw, and there was no other way to describe the huge hand, she took it, fully expecting her fingers to be crushed. Yet, Hank treated it with the utmost care. She barely realized he’d shaken her hand at all. He lifted her fingers to his mouth and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.
“It’s wonderful to meet you, missus.”
“Christie,” Mundo inserted helpfully.
“Christie. A beautiful name for a beautiful lady.” Hank beamed. “This calls for a celebration.”
“No, we don’t have time, Hank. The bond’s still unsettled, but Christie wanted to come out for a breath of fresh air.”
Hank frowned. “What the hell you talking about, boy? That makes no damn sense at all.”
Mundo grimaced. “I met her inside. She was the prison dentist.”
A hoot escaped the old bear. “Are you shitting me?” He blushed. “Sorry, ma’am.”
Before she could accept his apology, Mundo wafted it away. “We met a couple of weeks before I was due out.”
“Hell, you should be back in your den, not out here. The mating call must have been…” Hank pulled a face. “I can understand why you’ve been calling in sick now. Just thought you were getting a coupla months of jail time outta your system.” He clapped Mundo on the back again, and to Christie he said, “This boy’s like a son to me, ma’am. You’ll never find a better man than this one.” He ruffled a hand through Mundo’s hair and murmured, “You two want to be getting back home. Ain’t gonna do neither of you any good to be out and about when the bond isn’t in place.” He wrinkled his nose. “Although, I’d say it’s close. You both stink of each other.”
Christie flushed. “Is it obvious?” Was it possible to drown in mortification? She’d feared this kind of conversation when she’d been showering, and apparently, her instincts had been right on. Was this how Shifters talked all the time?
Hank looked uneasy, seeming to realize he’d embarrassed her. “Now, there’s no need to be uncomfortable, ma’am. No need at all. It’s not a bad smell, just you two merged together, that’s all. And it’s nothing none of your kin would recognize. Just Mundo’s.”
Like that was supposed to make her feel better. Her mate’s friends and colleagues were all going to know her stink.
Great.
“I just came in to get her a helmet. That’s all. Want her to be safe on the hog.”
Hank peered at the selection and reached for a black helmet with a streak of blue lightning down the sides. “That will suit you.” He peered down at the sizing, looked at her head, nodded once, and then pulled off the packaging. Pushing it at her, he said, “You two drive safely, and don’t be coming back here until that bond is firmly fixed.” He shook his head a final time then grunted, “Only you could find your mate in a goddamn jail cell, Jimmy.”
He retreated down the aisle as Mundo set about adjusting the straps, and as she watched the enormous breadth of Hank’s back disappear, he hollered, “You’ll never fuckin’ guess? That rat bastard, Mundo has only gone and found himself a mate!”
There was a chorus of riotous cheers, which had Mundo grinning as he put the helmet on her head. When he was satisfied it was on right, he tugged her by the hand and lead her out of the store. Before he opened the door, he released a huge roar, one that shook her to her marrow. It was like Hank’s from earlier, and in response, there came another four or five bellows.
“What was that about?” she gasped when they were out on the street.
“They were happy for me.”
“That was them being happy for you?” Hell, they’d sounded more furious than happy!
He grinned. “It’s—,” he took a second to peer around then said, “a bear thing…” But his words trailed off and he frowned at something in the distance. She went to look over her shoulder, but there came a popping sound, and it distracted her. Mundo staggered back, drawing her attention to him, and as she studied him, wondering what was going on, she saw the explosion of red on his white shirt.
She reached for him as he fell flush against the wall, his eyes fluttering shut as she screamed out Hank’s name, terror flooding her. He was so white—already. She screamed Hank’s name again, but heard no bellow that told her he was coming. Before she could even drop to her knees and press her hands against the wound to stem the flow of blood, she was pulled back and away, lifted into some stranger’s arms.
Christie kicked and punched, wheeling her hands and feet, arms and legs, doing everything she damn could to get whoever was holding her to let her go, but the bastards were too strong. She screamed, hoping someone would come to her aid, but it was too late. A black van appeared in the periphery of her vision, and she was stuffed into it.
Before she could do more than scream once again, they slammed the door shut.
But she had enough time to look at her mate, to see his life blood spilling from his chest, and to know that he was dying—which surely meant she was too.