Mate Bond

Turner flushed with sudden pleasure. “Really? I’m flattered. Would you? And maybe . . . give me some pointers? I want to get it right.”

“Happy to,” Kenzie said. “Do you have a copy I can take with me?”

“Why not read it right here?” Turner asked, giving her a hopeful smile. “While you enjoy some more coffee and stay warm?”

“I’m afraid we should be going,” Kenzie said, shaking her head. “Our son will be worried, plus we should report the shooter.”

“It’s still pretty dark,” Turner pointed out. “Dangerous out there until full daylight. And as I say, I’ll give you a lift.”

He returned to the kitchen without noticing the two Shifters’ discomfort. “Do you think he’s harmless?” Kenzie whispered into Bowman’s ear. “Or not?”

Bowman liked the way Kenzie’s breath tickled him, but he didn’t know how to answer.

Kenzie quietly put her coffee aside and moved to the front door. She stopped, stymied, and pointed at the keypad that took the place of a doorknob. There was no other latch, bolt, or keyhole; no other way to open the door.

“Oh, that has a code,” Turner said, coming back out of the kitchen. “Keeps squatters out when I’m not here.”

“What about the windows?” Bowman asked. “They don’t look very sturdy.”

“Looks are deceiving.” Turner smiled. “They’re wired to give an intruder a nasty shock when the alarm is on.”

“You booby-trapped your own house?” Kenzie asked him, still at the door.

“You’d be amazed at the people who come out here,” Turner said, with a quiet sigh of disapproval. “Drug dealers and pot growers, gangs, people trying to hide from the law. Or just hunters. After someone trashed the place once, I got wise.”

“Why do you come out here?” Kenzie asked. “If it’s so dangerous?”

He shrugged. “I like the quiet. I can think better. My dad left this house to me, and the property—why should I give it up because of scum like that? Besides, when I’m here, I can visualize how it used to be for Shifters in the wild. You lived pretty close to the bone, didn’t you?”

Kenzie had, in Eastern Europe. Bowman’s pack, which had lived north of the Great Lakes, had been hunted, first by Native Americans, then by colonials.

“Yes,” Bowman said.

“Ever miss it?”

Bowman shook his head, his look deadpan. “I like indoor plumbing.”

Turner laughed. “So captivity is better?”

“I didn’t say that. But we almost died in the wild. Our females stopped having many cubs. Now everyone is healthier, and more cubs are born.”

“But you and Kenzie just have the one?” Turner asked.

Bowman saw the pain on Kenzie’s face, and his voice turned to a growl. “Yes.”

Turner continued, not noticing the warning. “But maybe if you’d all remained in the wild, she might have been infertile altogether. So you’re right, you have benefited.”

“How about you stop talking and open the door?” Bowman suggested. He rose, putting his bulk between Turner and Kenzie. “Enjoyed the coffee. Now it’s time to go home.”

Turner looked blank. “Sure, if you truly have to. Let me by so I can put in the code. Before you go, though, I want to fix up a time to talk to you, Kenzie. You can come back here, or if you’ll let me go to Shiftertown . . . ?”

“We’ll discuss it.” Bowman stepped aside and pulled Kenzie next him.

Turner touched numbers on the keypad, but before he could push the door open for them, it was wrenched out of his grasp from the outside. Cristian stood on the doorstep, completely dressed, his breath fogging in the dawn light. His large motorcycle was parked in the clearing behind him.

“There you are,” Cristian said, his accent thick. “My mother is calling, calling, and every time I’m sure the sniper is going to hear. What are you doing? We need to go.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Kenzie gave a shiver of relief as she walked into her own house in Shiftertown. She was dressed again, Cristian having thoughtfully rescued all their clothes. They’d ridden triple on Cristian’s big black machine back to the arena, where Bowman’s bike still waited.

Ryan bounded into the kitchen in his wolf cub form as Kenzie and Bowman walked in the back door. Ryan sprang from the floor into Kenzie’s arms and began licking her face.

“Stop that.” Kenzie laughed and held her son close, burying her nose in his fur. “What are you doing up so early?”

Ryan kept licking, his tail wagging like a big puppy’s. He yipped happily at his father but snuggled down in his mother’s arms, not ready to leave her. Though Ryan was twelve in human years, in Shifter terms, he was still a little cub, though his wolf body was getting bigger by the year. He had long legs and big ears and huge paws the rest of him hadn’t yet grown into.

Bowman slammed the door. He dumped the manuscript Turner had given them on the table and made for the refrigerator.

Kenzie’s grandmother, Afina, came out from the hall that led to the bedrooms. Though she’d reached her three hundredth year, Afina was tall and strong, with barely any gray in her dark hair. Humans sometimes mistook her for Cristian’s sister rather than his mother.

“You are back then?” she asked. “And Cristian? You left him alive?”