Not until Iona was standing on her human feet, rubbing her aching arms, did he reach to the ground for his clothes. Iona enjoyed watching him a moment before she slipped on her underwear, sweatpants, and sport top, a bit disappointed that they were getting ready to head home.

But the stealthy move to the top of the hill and the equally careful one down had taken the edge off Iona’s frenzy. Eric had been smart to include her in his reconnaissance.

“What was that place?” she asked as Eric settled his black T-shirt over his body.

“No idea. What did you get from it?”

“You mean the scents? Nothing. I mean, apart from the guys and the usual smell of desert and buildings. But I’m not very good at scenting, I told you.”

Eric buckled his belt. “I didn’t smell anything either. It was neutral.”

“Maybe the buildings are airtight.”

He shook his head as he leaned on his motorcycle’s seat and pulled on his boots. “No building’s that airtight, unless it’s underground or something. These are crappy buildings on temporary foundations. I should be able to smell what’s inside them.”

“Unless the buildings are empty.”

“Then why the AC units, and why the barbed wire and guards? Very weird.” Eric took the helmet from the back of the bike and handed it to her. “I’ll send my trackers back out to have another look around.”

“Trackers?”

“Trackers are my eyes and ears. Brody, who lives next door to me, is one, a couple of wolves, my son, and Neal, our Guardian.”

Iona didn’t know what a Guardian was either, but she wasn’t in the mood for lessons on Shifters at the moment. The men on the other side of the ridge made her nervous.

“Your son,” she repeated. Iona had looked up information on Eric after she’d met him and knew he’d had a wife—a mate—who’d given him a son. But Eric, so far, had never spoken about him.

Now he grinned. “Jace. You’d like him. He’s nicer than me.”

“Most people are.”

Eric was across the few feet of gravel, his hand gripping the back of her neck before Iona registered he’d moved. He held her solidly, his eyes glittering in the moonlight, gaze fixing hers and not letting her look away.

“I can’t be nice and be leader,” he said, all smiles gone. “My Shifters have to be ready to obey me in an instant, or everyone is in danger. That doesn’t leave me much room for being nice.”

Iona stilled as her mating heat started to rise again. Why did him touching her with so much strength make her want him?

She looked steadily back at him, knowing he could scent her fear as well as her excitement and need. “I was joking,” she said.

“You have a sassy mouth. I like it.” Eric licked swiftly across her parted lips, then released her.

He walked to the bike, straddled it, and started it. He didn’t look at Iona as she quickly jammed on the helmet and swung on behind him, but he waited until she’d wrapped her arms around his waist before he lifted his feet and guided the motorcycle back down the narrow dirt trail.

Eric arrived home to a full house. He was restless as he dismounted and put away the bike, the run with Iona not having calmed him. Even the long ride he’d taken after he’d dropped her off, to get her smell off him, hadn’t helped either.

Having her under him, ripe and ready, still had his body roaring. He could have taken her, fallen back on what Shifters did in the wild, forced the mate-claim on the female and dragged her home. She’d been ready, her mating need high.

If Eric had been younger, he might have done it. He’d chased Kirsten hard, and she’d played just coy enough to make him crazy.

When Kirsten had finally let him catch her, and they’d mated, it had been fast and frantic. Eric had shut her with him into the half of the house he’d shared with Cassidy in Scotland, and they’d not come out for days.

Since Kirsten’s death, Eric hadn’t bothered to pursue females. He had enough casual encounters to keep his libido under control, he already had a son, and besides, he missed Kirsten. Females were scarce among Shifters, and he’d decided to leave the females in their fertile years to younger males who hadn’t yet produced cubs.

He knew that what he should do with Iona was bring her into Shiftertown and give the younger males first chance with her. Neal, their Guardian, still needed a mate, as did several other males, including Shane and Brody.

But every time Eric thought about stepping aside and letting another Shifter have her, sharp, red rage boiled through him. Eric had seen her first. Iona was his.

Cassidy was in the kitchen, leaning on the breakfast bar to watch her husband cook. What Diego was mixing up in that cast-iron pan—strips of steak that smelled like they’d been marinated with spices and jalapeños—made Eric’s mouth water and stomach growl. He was hungry.

Cassidy drank water, her stomach distended with the cub she carried, while Diego had a beer. At Eric’s appearance, Diego, without a word, fetched another beer from the refrigerator and handed it to him.

Eric opened the bottle but didn’t drink, his adrenaline still too high. Beer would calm him down, but he didn’t really want to calm down.

Cassidy’s pregnancy looked good on her. She wore a knit shirt that clung to the bump that was Eric’s nephew or niece, the rest of her as long and lean as ever. It would be cliché to say that Cassidy glowed, but in Eric’s opinion, she truly did. Her face was rosy, her eyes bright, her pale hair sleek, her smile wide. Her love for Diego was plain to see, as was Diego’s for her.