She knew he wasn’t sleeping by the rigidness of his hands, which clenched the sheet. When Bowman slept, his fingers relaxed, the powerful grip finally calming. His breathing would deepen, his chest rising and falling in long, slow cycles. Bowman also snored when he slept hard, a fact he fervently denied.

At the moment, his fingers were stiff, his breathing shallow and quiet.

Kenzie slowly and carefully eased herself down beside him. She slid down farther without disturbing the sheets, until her nose was level with the heat of his bare hip.

Before he could reach down and stop her, Kenzie locked her hand around his far hip, raised her head, and did what she’d dreamed of doing out by the arena today. Bowman’s cock was already hard, so he had to be thinking about it too.

“No.” Bowman jumped, his hands coming down to push her away.

Too late. Kenzie was already rubbing her tongue along the underside of his cock, reveling in the dark taste of him.

The grip that Bowman meant to stop her instead closed on her hair, his fingers threading it. “Kenzie, you little shit,” he whispered.

Kenzie smiled as she worked him into her mouth. The sheet trapped her, as did his hands, but Kenzie didn’t care. She was nestled in a warm cocoon with her mate, darkness, and the fine feel and taste of his cock.

As she licked, nipped, and suckled, the smooth head bumped her lips, her nose. She nuzzled him, his skin wet from her tongue, and wanted to laugh.

“Goddess and God.” Bowman spoke with jaw clenched. “Damn you . . .”

Kenzie kept on him. His hips moved under her mouth, Bowman wanting to thrust. He’d come any minute, and she’d swallow him, the seed of her beloved mate.

But it wasn’t meant to be. Bowman reached down, seized her, and dragged her up and out from under the covers. She couldn’t fight the strength of him, not when he was like this—needing and angry.

He had her down on the mattress before Kenzie could say a word, his mouth on hers, his knee forcing her legs open. Then he was inside her, every Shifter inch of him. Their hips rocked together, sweat making his fingers slick where he held down her wrists.

Bowman thrust into her, this loving rapid and fierce, until he came, snarling, and fell on top of her, breathing hard.

Kenzie smoothed his hair, her own climax quiet this time, but still powerful.

Bowman’s head was cradled on her breasts when sleep finally took him. His grip relaxed, his hands growing slack, but Kenzie never moved, drifting off to sleep in the strong embrace of her mate.

* * *

Bowman’s cell phone going off dragged him awake before daylight.

He rolled out of bed to grab the phone from the pocket of his jeans, his body protesting. Only a little of his soreness was residual from his injured leg—frantic sex with his mate always took its toll.

Bowman was highly aware of Kenzie sitting up in the dark behind him, the sheet hugging her breasts. Her eroticism was like a stinging slap. He could never ignore her.

Nor could he ignore the insistent phone. Shifters didn’t have access to the scores of ringtones humans did, so it gave a shrill, tinny brr-brr. Bowman had noticed, as he noticed everything, that humans, given the huge selection of sounds their phones could make, stuck overall with the same few.

Caller ID told him the number calling was private, but no one would call a Shiftertown leader at four thirty on an icy morning if it weren’t important.

“What?” he asked in a rasping whisper, not wanting to wake Ryan in the next room.

“In the woods near the burn site,” came a muffled voice, pitched to hide the caller’s gender. “Come now. It’s important.”

“Why the fuck should I?”

“You need to.” The caller sounded anxious, and now Bowman knew she was female. “I don’t like what he’s doing. I thought he was right, but now—this is bad. I need to show you, or you’ll never believe me.”

Behind him, Bowman heard Kenzie’s phone give the faint buzz that said she had a text. Kenzie leaned to the nightstand to grab it, stretching the sheet over the curve of her hips.

“Who is this?” Bowman demanded.

“I’m—” The woman broke off with a gasp. “Oh, shit! I have to—” And the phone went dead.

Bowman slammed his finger onto his recent calls list, but it didn’t give him any more information than before. Private caller.

He threw down the phone to find Kenzie texting, her thumbs moving rapidly. Bowman could never get the hang of texts. Either talk to me or go the hell away was his motto.

Kenzie finished her message, waited a moment, then read the return message when her phone buzzed again. She typed two letters with her thumbs and hit the send key hard.

“Cristian?” Bowman asked.

“Yes.” Kenzie looked up from scowling at the message. “How did you know?”

“I can almost smell him through the phone. And no one else can piss you off as much with a text message.”

“You could,” Kenzie said darkly.

“I don’t text. What did he want?”

For answer, Kenzie showed him the phone. Cristian had first written, I found out something about that Serena. Come to me and speak.

Kenzie had written, Just tell me.

The reply: She has passed on information about Shifters that I fear has endangered us. You need to come. Meet me in the woods near where the monster died.

Kenzie’s NO blazed in response.

Bowman nodded, indicating he was finished reading. The fact that Cristian had written in English meant he fully expected Kenzie to share the message with Bowman and wanted nothing to be lost in translation.