One of the refs started forward, but when Iona swung on him, he slunk back. Iona ran the final steps to Eric’s side and dropped to him, lifting the leopard and cradling him against her.

She smelled another scent similar to Eric’s and saw Jace land next to her. “She’s right,” Jace said to the refs. “This isn’t because of the fight. I’ve seen this before. Collar malfunction.”

“Which means I win,” Graham said. “The alpha is down.”

Iona flowed back to her full human self, still holding Eric’s wildcat. Her shirt was torn, her black lace bra visible in the wide gap, and she couldn’t be bothered to care.

“Eric, I’m here.” Iona stroked his fur, never minding the blood. His wiry coat covered a heavily muscled body, which was hot but trembling all over.

As she smoothed his fur, Eric’s shaking calmed a little, though his moans of pain didn’t cease. Iona felt him start to shift, this one difficult for him.

He took a long time to change to human, and when the wildcat vanished, Eric was curled up, fetal position, half in Iona’s lap, skin covered with dirt and blood.

Graham stood next to them, his massively muscular legs also covered in blood. “I win the Challenge,” he declared. “The mate-claim is mine.”

Iona looked up at him, meeting his alpha stare. “You didn’t win, you ass**le. He’s hurting from something else. He was beating you!”

The flash in Graham’s gray eyes told Iona she was right about that and he knew it. “All I see is Warden on the ground, and me standing over him. I’ve won you, bitch. Get it through your head.”

The refs closed into a knot with each other a few yards away, talking rapidly. The rest of the crowd alternated between concern for Eric, anger at the refs, and yelling for Graham’s blood. Diego, Shane, and Xavier positioned themselves around Eric, Jace, and Iona, the solid barrier of their legs comforting.

One of the refs broke from the other three. He addressed the crowd, keeping his colleagues between himself and Graham. “The fight’s a draw. No winner.”

The crowd screamed its approval, though shouts for Eric to rip open Graham continued. Graham snarled, but the man had the good sense not to dispute in a crowd that clearly hated him.

“Then the Challenge stands,” Graham said in a loud voice, cutting over the noise. “Another time and place, Warden. I’ll win her.”

Eric’s eyes were still closed, his breathing labored. Iona gently moved him to Jace’s lap, then she stood up.

Graham didn’t move as Iona stepped toe-to-toe with him and looked up at his tall bulk. Graham’s gaze swept over her open shirt and bra, but Iona didn’t have time to worry about it.

“Eric,” she said in a clear, loud voice, still looking at Graham. “I reject your mate-claim.”

“What?” Jace bellowed, and the crowd’s shouting diminished into startled murmurs.

“I said, I reject Eric’s mate-claim,” Iona said, holding Graham with her gaze. “Cass, does that mean that Graham’s mate-claim is good, and the Challenge is no longer necessary?” Cassidy had been teaching her about Shifter rules all day. Archaic, Iona found them, but she was starting to understand how they worked.

“Yes,” Cassidy said with reluctance.

Graham smiled down at Iona, his teeth still pointed like his wolf’s. “Yes,” he said in triumph.

“Good.” Iona smiled too, hers so full of malice that Graham’s faded. “In that case, Graham McNeil, in front of witnesses, I reject your mate-claim.”

The Shifters roared with laughter and appreciation. Some applauded. Graham’s snarl returned. “You f**king—”

“Eric told me you hate Felines,” Iona interrupted him. “You don’t want me as mate, you only want to take me away from Eric. So stop this bullshit and make your fights about what really matters.”

Graham’s eyes were flat with rage, but something else glimmered in there—approval? Maybe even respect? No, couldn’t be.

Graham motioned for his seconds, who came forward with his clothes. “You really are a bitch, you know? Warden can have you. That means, when I take him down, you go with him. The leader and his alpha mate burn together.”

“I’m not his mate,” Iona said, never taking her eyes from Graham’s. “I just rejected his claim—weren’t you listening?”

“Oh, you’re his mate, sugar,” Graham said, sliding a T-shirt over the drying blood on his torso. “You are so his mate. The blessings of the Goddess be upon you.”

Giving Iona a final sneer, Graham turned his back on her and walked away, grabbing the rest of his clothes as he went. The crowd, as much as they’d chanted for Graham’s blood, parted to let him through.

You are so his mate. Graham had said the words derisively but with conviction. Iona thought of the black fury that had risen in her at the sight of Graham ripping into Eric, and watched the wolf go in stunned silence.

“Iona.” Eric’s voice was weak, and Iona’s fear returned. She knelt next to him again, touching him, her pulse speeding.

“Iona, mate of my heart,” Eric rasped. “Please, get me the f**k out of here.”

Graham went home to the house in Shiftertown he’d commandeered on arrival, and showered off the blood and grime of the fight. He hurt like a son of a bitch, his chest gouged by Eric’s wide claws, a piece of his shoulder ripped by the wildcat’s teeth.