* * *

Cristian wandered Shiftertown, both irritated and amused at the carryings-on of the Shifters around him. A person would think Shifters never had sex except on mating ceremony nights, but this was not the case. Shifters used any excuse to do the deed.

Cristian was no celibate, but he chose his partners carefully. He was pack and clan leader, and female Shifters were always looking for a high-ranking male to give them cubs. Cristian was older than many of the Shifters in this town, but it didn’t matter. To a mate-seeking female, he was a walking target.

But since his mate had gone, so long ago now, taking half his heart with him, Cristian had kept his relationships physical, nothing more. The animal in him needed to relieve basic needs, but he never let things go beyond that.

His beloved Melita had been his life. They’d had forty years together before she’d been shot by a human hunter, mistaken for one of the wolves that had been attacking livestock on nearby farms. She’d died in his arms, and Cristian had kissed her lips before the Guardian had sent her to dust.

Cristian had taken his vengeance on the humans who’d killed her, then disappeared into the wilds for a long time to grieve. Kenzie had found him out there and persuaded him to come home.

She’d been a cub, orphaned, alone, a leggy little wolf with rumpled hair. Adorable. Cristian had followed her back and tried to continue his life.

Now Kenzie was in pain, and he knew it. Bowman was a good leader—Cristian hated to admit it—but Kenzie hurt whenever she looked at the asshole. Cristian would have to do something about that.

And about all the crap that was going on around here. If Bowman didn’t get it done, and fast, Cristian would do it for him.

In fact, he’d start now.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Bowman returned from patrolling Shiftertown once the sun was rising and Shifters were crawling home. Some slept where they dropped. Lumps of fur littered the ground, Shifters snoring it off.

Bowman had realized long ago that being leader meant he didn’t always get to join in the revelry. He protected the perimeter so that his Shifters could let loose and enjoy themselves.

Kenzie often patrolled with him, the two of them sharing the quiet while Shiftertown partied behind them. Now that the party was over, Bowman headed home, intending to make up for missing out—with Kenzie. Ryan was safely with Afina, and they’d have the house to themselves.

When he entered the kitchen through the back door, all was silent. The old-fashioned percolator coffeepot sat on the counter, its lid off, the scent of cold coffee lingering in the room. The coffee table he saw through the open space to the living room held two open bottles of beer, but no one seemed to be around. Bowman did a quick inhale and scented human male over the familiar scents of the house. A particular human male. Gil.

The door to the bedroom he shared with Kenzie was closed. Bowman strode immediately to it, his killing instincts flaring high. His Collar bit a warning spark deep into his skin, but he ignored it.

He was sick to his stomach as he reached for the doorknob. He did not want to open that door and find Gil with Kenzie, but at the same time he needed to let the world know that any man who touched his mate would be ripped in half.

Bowman swallowed bile, ignored a second spark from his Collar, and entered the room.

Kenzie sat cross-legged in the middle of the unrumpled bed. She was dressed in jeans and a tank top, her arms bare, though the room was cool. She had a wad of crumpled tissues in her hand, and she didn’t look up when Bowman came in.

“Kenzie, what’s wrong?” he asked, his heart pounding. His Collar quieted, but his fears surged. “What happened?”

Kenzie raised her head. Her eyes were red, her nose swollen, her cheeks tear-streaked. “Gil.” She started to say more, but a sob caught in her chest.

Bowman came all the way into the room, to the bed. “What did he do to you? Did he touch you? I’ll kill him.” He felt faint surprise that Kenzie hadn’t turned a man who assaulted her into so much raw hamburger, but he waited for her to explain.

Kenzie shook her head. “It’s not his fault. Killing him won’t help.”

“What isn’t his fault?” Bowman put his fingers under Kenzie’s chin and forced her to look up at him.

She didn’t want to. She tried to turn her head and avoid his gaze, something Kenzie simply did not do. She always glared Bowman down, and be damned to him.

Kenzie finally looked at him, her eyes red with weeping. “Bowman, do you feel the mate bond?”

She’d never asked him straight out before. When they’d gone through the mating ceremonies and spent their first night together as mates, they’d watched each other closely, to see, even teased about it a little. Which of them would be the first to feel it?

As days stretched to weeks, and then months, they’d stopped talking about it. If it happened, then it would happen. The Goddess bestowed blessings in her own time. They’d stopped talking about having cubs as well.

Bowman stilled at Kenzie’s question, not daring to think anything. He focused his awareness to the inside of his chest, which others, including Marcus tonight, had told him was where the feeling started. A burning or itching sensation, they said, which then brought on a stab of joy.

Bowman felt nothing, only the wild beating of his heart. Terror clenched his gut, and he slowly shook his head.

Kenzie let out an anguished sob. She pounded at her chest, her fingers curling, tearing at her shirt. “I want it to go away. I want it to go away.”