“You know what it means, then?” Fergus kept his voice soft, turning away from the other Shifters. “You are responsible for everything she does. She steps a toe out of line, it’s you who pays. Your father won’t interfere; he knows the rules.”

Kim’s anger flared. “You—”

She found Liam’s fingers over her lips. “Not now,” he said. “I know what it means, Fergus. You forgo the claim forever, then?”

“I do, but I have a condition.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” Kim muttered behind Liam’s fingers.

“Brian goes down,” Fergus said. “You, woman, will let him, and Liam, you’ll make sure she does it. He pleads guilty and takes the punishment. Those are my terms.”

Without waiting for their answer, he turned from them and walked away.

Chapter Twelve

Liam knew that Kim didn’t understand. He held her hand as she drove, and sensed the confusion pouring off her. He’d explain everything to her soon, but right now he just wanted to have her pull the car over so he could drag her off and sex her.

He burned with it. When a Shifter claimed a mate, the urge to procreate released. He’d always known that in theory but never realized it would be this much of a flood. It was all he could do to stop at holding Kim’s hand. He wanted to slide his fingers under the waistband of her jeans, lean over and press kisses to her neck, unbutton her blouse and dip his hand inside.

The little sweetheart hadn’t let him get into the car until she’d dragged a towel and a first-aid kit out of her trunk, demanded a bottle of clean water from one of the Shifters, and doctored Liam’s back. She’d rinsed and dried the wounds, then applied antiseptic, which had stung a little.

Liam had tried to tell her he’d heal quickly, but she only clenched her teeth and doctored him anyway. He also couldn’t tell her, with Sean and Connor hovering, that her touch fired his longing to open his pants and have a go with her right there.

The others must have sensed his craving, because the teasing had begun.

“So does a mate’s touch really heal, Liam?” Sean had asked.

“I don’t think he’s going to last until we get home.” Connor snickered beside him.

“You’ll live, son,” Dylan had said, clapping Liam on the shoulder. “It’s worth it.”

Kim hadn’t known what the hell they were talking about, but from her blush, she’d suspected.

He squeezed Kim’s thigh now, and she responded with a smile, albeit a nervous one. Not disgust, not, “Keep your hands off me, Shifter.” Kim liked him. Would she like him after she fully understood what was happening?

“Damnation,” Connor said from the backseat.

Liam looked over his shoulder. Connor’s nose was buried in a magazine Kim had grabbed for him at the convenience store where they’d stopped for gas. Though Kim had offered to pay for gas, magazine, and cold sodas, Dylan had silently fished out some cash and pressed it into her hand.

It was a sports magazine, because the only thing Connor liked better than cars was sports, football in particular. Not American football with pigskin and pads, but real football, what Americans called soccer. Connor had never been to a true football game, in a stadium overflowing with raving crowds that made American fans look like a pack of knitting grannies. Connor watched it on telly when he could and avidly followed the Republic of Ireland national football team in the sports news.

“Ireland is playing today,” Connor mourned. “Tonight for them, but today over here.”

“Never on a major network,” Sean said. “That would be a bloody miracle.”

“Sportz 3.” Connor lifted the magazine sideways, studying the grid of sports offerings for the week. “Satellite channel. Game starts in an hour.” He sounded glum.

“Never mind, Con,” Dylan said. He leaned against the window and closed his eyes. “It’s a human game, anyway.”

Dylan had never understood Connor’s obsession with sports. But then Dylan had grown up two centuries ago, far from human society, while Connor had spent his entire young life immersed in it. Connor was what Shifters were trying to create by taking the Collar, a generation comfortable with human culture. Maybe in a few generations, the Collars could become a thing of the past, forgotten, Shifters fully integrated into human society.

Dylan wanted that. But it didn’t mean he understood Connor’s addiction.

“Ellison has a friend in Shiftertown North,” Sean said. “He can sometimes get satellite channels. Maybe we can get you up there to see it.”

“In an hour?” Connor shook his head. “And I’ve seen that jury-rigged TV. You have to turn off all the lights, tilt your head sideways, and squint. If he’s lucky and can get a signal at all.”

“There’s bound to be a recording somewhere,” Sean said. “Me and Liam will look around for it.”

Connor threw down the magazine. “Stop babying me, Sean. I’ll not see it, and you know it. It’s not like the local DVD stores have a huge section on Irish football.”

“Or you can watch it at my house,” Kim said.

All four Shifters stopped and stared at her. “I have every satellite channel known to man,” Kim went on. “Plus a new flat-screen. No beer, though. Sorry.”

Connor shoved himself between the seats, eyes alight. “Are you serious? You’d let me watch your telly at your house?”