Pride Mates
Page 30
One of the wildcats rolled away from the other and landed against a tree. Its limbs distorted, and Liam emerged, naked, dirt and long, bloody scratches streaking his body. The other cat became Dylan, lying flat on his back in the mud, panting.
“Kim!” Glory yelled.
Glory was rocking Connor on her lap. Kim went to them and dropped to her knees behind Connor, feeling ineffectual.
“He needs your touch,” Glory said. “You’re family now.”
Kim put her hands on Connor’s bare back. “It’s all right, Con.”
“He needs more than that. Goddess, how do you humans survive?”
Because being human is all about personal space? Shifters’ personal space was different. Kim had thought she understood—Shifters liked to touch, the same way cats rubbed against other cats they knew and liked.
But she realized now that there was more to it. The Shifters’ need to touch wasn’t simply for affection; it was comfort and reassurance. And maybe release from pain? Kim remembered how Sean and Liam had held Sandra between them to calm her the first day Kim had come to Shiftertown. Kim had thought that the three were being sexual, but she knew now that there hadn’t been anything sexual about their group huddle.
Kim slid her arms around Connor and leaned onto his back. “It’s all right, sweetie,” she said. “They’ve stopped.”
Glory had Connor’s head on her shoulder, her arm around him. Connor had stopped his horrible keening, but he shivered violently.
He really was young, Kim had realized when he’d shifted. As a wildcat, Connor was underdeveloped, little more than a cub, never mind he was twenty in human years and attending college. The gulf between his world and Kim’s gaped wide.
Gulf. Oh, hell, Silas.
Kim looked up. Silas remained with Annie, who’d taken a protective stance in front of him. Silas’s eyes were wide, but the man had seen the worst areas of Iraq and Afghanistan. Two Shifter-cats battling it out shouldn’t faze him. She hoped.
“Why didn’t your Collars work?” he asked into the silence.
Dylan still lay on his back with his eyes closed, his face ashen. Liam answered, “They did. This is pain you’re looking at, lad. Dad was teaching me a bit of a lesson, is all.”
Liam’s answer was evasive, but he wasn’t lying about the pain. He looked awful, and so did Dylan.
Ellison had shifted back to human form but hadn’t resumed his clothes. He went to Liam, helped him to his feet, put an arm around him. Sean stepped to Liam’s other side, wrapped his arm around Liam’s shoulder, nuzzled his cheek.
“Go to him, Kim,” Glory said. “I’ve got Connor.”
“What about Dylan?” Dylan lay alone, breathing hard, his body white and gleaming with sweat.
“Leave Dylan be. Liam’s your mate. He needs you.”
Kim gave Connor one last hug and unfolded to her feet. She never could decide whether Glory was a complete bitch or a complicated woman. Glory’s tongue was sharp, but she looked up at Kim with such anguish in her eyes that Kim suddenly wanted to hug her.
She resisted and went to Liam.
Ellison relinquished his place at Liam’s side to Kim. Kim kept her eyes averted from Ellison’s very naked body, but Ellison didn’t seem to notice or care.
“We need to get him to the house, away from everyone,” Sean said from Liam’s other side.
Kim nodded. She and Sean helped Liam walk, step by shaky step, to the back porch, and inside the quiet Morrissey house. It was dark, no one having been inside since sunset, but neither she nor Sean bothered to turn on the light.
“Get me to the couch,” Liam said. “I’ll be all right.”
Kim and Sean lowered him gently. Kim took Liam’s hand between hers, and Sean started to sit down next to him.
“Stop fussing like old biddies,” Liam growled. “It’s not that bad. You need to make sure Connor’s all right.”
“What about your dad?” Kim asked.
“Glory will see to him.” Liam reached for her. “Poor Kim. We’ve given you a fright.”
“Now you’re patronizing me.” Kim climbed to her feet and glared at both of them. “That was some serious shit out there, wasn’t it?”
“It’s over now.”
“You can barely talk, Liam. So be quiet. And you.” Kim pointed at Sean. “You just stood there. Like you did in San Antonio when Fergus went crazy with his whip. You stood there and let them fight each other, let Connor rush in and get hurt. I thought you were supposed to be the big Guardian of the clan. Doesn’t that mean you’re supposed to protect them?”
“Kim,” Liam said. “Don’t.”
“It’s all right, Liam,” Sean answered. “She doesn’t understand.”
“So make me understand.”
Sean looked at her a few moments, then lifted the sword from where it rested beside the couch. He drew it from its sheath and held the sword toward her in both hands, letting Kim see the interwoven Celtic designs etched into the hilt and blade. The workmanship was amazing, the lines featherlight, every single one part of the intricate pattern.
“It’s Shifter forged and Fae spelled. Very old, not meant for fighting.”
“For what, then?”
“The Guardian doesn’t guard the clan,” Sean said softly. “I’m the Guardian of the Gate. The Gate to the afterworld.”
Kim dragged her gaze from the sword to look into Sean’s quiet eyes. “You’ve lost me.”
“It used to be that the Guardian was for his pride only. But now that we’ve taken the Collar, I’m responsible for every Shifter in this Shiftertown. When a Shifter dies or is without hope of survival, I bring the sword. The sword frees the soul, allowing it to enter the Summerland. The Guardian makes sure the souls aren’t stranded, which makes them vulnerable to be enslaved again by the Fae. I save them from that.”
Kim tried to understand, to make her very practical mind believe. “So, when you stand there, watching a fight…”
“I’m waiting to see if the sword is needed. If I join in, and I’m hurt or killed, there’s no one else who can wield the sword. When I die, a new Guardian arises. Usually from the same family, but it’s complicated.”
“Are you telling me that if Dylan had hurt Liam enough tonight, you’d have stuck Liam with the sword? Turned him to dust like you did with that Shifter in my bedroom?”
“He would have, love,” Liam said. “He’d have done what he needed to do.”
“Aye, I’d have sent him to dust,” Sean agreed. “Just like I did with our Kenny.” Sean sheathed the sword, turned on his heel, and walked out of the house, clutching the sword in a tight hand.
“Oh,” Kim said into the quiet. “Now I feel like a complete idiot. What a thing to remind him of. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. I was just so angry at him for not helping you.”
“It’s an old hurt. My fault for not explaining about it.”
Liam looked exhausted, lines etched into his tired face. Kim sat down next him, kissed his hand. “You’re not all right. You told me how strong your dad was, and the Collar really punished you out there.”
“It’s not so bad,” Liam said, his voice nearly a whisper. “Yet. Can you help me up to bed, Kim? I’m thinking I’ll be spending the rest of my mate-bonding night there. Not what I really had in mind, but eventually, I’m going to feel better.” He smiled. “And I’ll want you next to me.”
He tried to speak lightly, but Kim saw the pain in his eyes, remembered how it had clouded him the night he’d saved her from the feral Shifter. She kissed his lips, softly, trying not to hurt him, then put her arm around him and helped him to his feet.
Dylan had never screwed like this before. The sofa springs dug into Glory’s back, and Dylan’s weight pinned her wonderfully. He drove into her hard, harder, never mind the angry scratches and bruises that covered his body. His face was set, his eyes almost feral.
She’d feared that he’d be enraged with her, and he was angry, but it was anger Glory didn’t understand. Instead of berating her when he stormed in her back door, he’d grabbed her and started sexing her before they even reached the sofa. His clothes had already been gone, and she helped him tear off her own clothes before clasping him in her arms. Now Dylan pumped into her until Glory screamed with joy, not caring if everyone in Shiftertown was still outside to hear.
She was under no illusion that Dylan loved her. Dylan still loved his mate and resented himself for what he did with Glory. Dylan tried to be kind, but Glory knew that he considered himself betraying the woman who’d borne his children. His need for Glory angered him. Whenever the anger finally overrode his desires, he’d refuse to see Glory for months.
Glory held on to him, feeling him slip away from her again. Damn it, why couldn’t he make up his mind? He was tearing her apart.
She felt his seed as he groaned with it, and she hoped against hope that this time, she’d conceive. Dylan might consider taking her as mate if she had a cub. It was more difficult to produce a baby cross-species, but it could be done, and Glory would love bearing Dylan’s child.
Glory squeezed him inside her and held him close. Dylan collapsed on her, breath ragged.
The sounds of the revelry outside filtered into the house. The Shifters were enjoying themselves again. The fight was over, nothing had changed, and there was a mating ritual to celebrate. Perfect excuse to party all night.
Dylan disentangled himself from Glory and sat up, breathing hard. He ran his hands through his sweaty hair.
She loved his hair. He kept it fairly short, and it was going gray at the temples, which complemented the fine lines around his eyes. If this man could be hers…
“I won’t ask if you’re all right,” Glory said. Her lips were swollen, and she winced as her tongue found a cut. “You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.”
Dylan didn’t answer. He sat back, still catching his breath. Glory got up and went to the kitchen, gratified that when she came back with a wet towel his gaze was fixed on her naked body.
She sat next to him and started dabbing blood from his face.
“Thank you,” Dylan said. “Are you all right?”
Now she worried. Dylan never reverted to politeness unless things were truly bad. “My Collar gave me only one burst. It went away fast.” A lie, but Glory knew that Dylan’s hurting when it came would be far greater than hers. Staving off the consequences of the Collar brought worse hurt than going along with it.
“I’m sorry, Dylan,” she said. “I didn’t realize Liam would react so strongly. I thought my Collar would stop me, and he’d laugh at me for being foolish.”
Dylan looked away. “I didn’t think he’d react like that, either.”
“And then you leapt in to save me. My hero.”
Dylan shot her a look. Glory went back to dabbing his wounds. “It’s over now,” she said. “You wrestled, you stopped the fight. I’m sorry about Connor.”
“Connor needs to learn to back off until he’s fully grown.” Dylan paused. “And I didn’t stop the fight. Liam did.”
“Liam backed down. I saw him.”
“No.” Dylan’s words were flat. “Liam stopped the fight, because he was winning it.”
Glory froze, and the cloth dripped water on her bare thighs. “Goddess, are you sure?”
“Very sure, love. Liam stopped before he could hurt me. If this had happened before the Collar, he’d have killed me.” Dylan closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of the sofa.
“What are you going to do to him?”
“Kim!” Glory yelled.
Glory was rocking Connor on her lap. Kim went to them and dropped to her knees behind Connor, feeling ineffectual.
“He needs your touch,” Glory said. “You’re family now.”
Kim put her hands on Connor’s bare back. “It’s all right, Con.”
“He needs more than that. Goddess, how do you humans survive?”
Because being human is all about personal space? Shifters’ personal space was different. Kim had thought she understood—Shifters liked to touch, the same way cats rubbed against other cats they knew and liked.
But she realized now that there was more to it. The Shifters’ need to touch wasn’t simply for affection; it was comfort and reassurance. And maybe release from pain? Kim remembered how Sean and Liam had held Sandra between them to calm her the first day Kim had come to Shiftertown. Kim had thought that the three were being sexual, but she knew now that there hadn’t been anything sexual about their group huddle.
Kim slid her arms around Connor and leaned onto his back. “It’s all right, sweetie,” she said. “They’ve stopped.”
Glory had Connor’s head on her shoulder, her arm around him. Connor had stopped his horrible keening, but he shivered violently.
He really was young, Kim had realized when he’d shifted. As a wildcat, Connor was underdeveloped, little more than a cub, never mind he was twenty in human years and attending college. The gulf between his world and Kim’s gaped wide.
Gulf. Oh, hell, Silas.
Kim looked up. Silas remained with Annie, who’d taken a protective stance in front of him. Silas’s eyes were wide, but the man had seen the worst areas of Iraq and Afghanistan. Two Shifter-cats battling it out shouldn’t faze him. She hoped.
“Why didn’t your Collars work?” he asked into the silence.
Dylan still lay on his back with his eyes closed, his face ashen. Liam answered, “They did. This is pain you’re looking at, lad. Dad was teaching me a bit of a lesson, is all.”
Liam’s answer was evasive, but he wasn’t lying about the pain. He looked awful, and so did Dylan.
Ellison had shifted back to human form but hadn’t resumed his clothes. He went to Liam, helped him to his feet, put an arm around him. Sean stepped to Liam’s other side, wrapped his arm around Liam’s shoulder, nuzzled his cheek.
“Go to him, Kim,” Glory said. “I’ve got Connor.”
“What about Dylan?” Dylan lay alone, breathing hard, his body white and gleaming with sweat.
“Leave Dylan be. Liam’s your mate. He needs you.”
Kim gave Connor one last hug and unfolded to her feet. She never could decide whether Glory was a complete bitch or a complicated woman. Glory’s tongue was sharp, but she looked up at Kim with such anguish in her eyes that Kim suddenly wanted to hug her.
She resisted and went to Liam.
Ellison relinquished his place at Liam’s side to Kim. Kim kept her eyes averted from Ellison’s very naked body, but Ellison didn’t seem to notice or care.
“We need to get him to the house, away from everyone,” Sean said from Liam’s other side.
Kim nodded. She and Sean helped Liam walk, step by shaky step, to the back porch, and inside the quiet Morrissey house. It was dark, no one having been inside since sunset, but neither she nor Sean bothered to turn on the light.
“Get me to the couch,” Liam said. “I’ll be all right.”
Kim and Sean lowered him gently. Kim took Liam’s hand between hers, and Sean started to sit down next to him.
“Stop fussing like old biddies,” Liam growled. “It’s not that bad. You need to make sure Connor’s all right.”
“What about your dad?” Kim asked.
“Glory will see to him.” Liam reached for her. “Poor Kim. We’ve given you a fright.”
“Now you’re patronizing me.” Kim climbed to her feet and glared at both of them. “That was some serious shit out there, wasn’t it?”
“It’s over now.”
“You can barely talk, Liam. So be quiet. And you.” Kim pointed at Sean. “You just stood there. Like you did in San Antonio when Fergus went crazy with his whip. You stood there and let them fight each other, let Connor rush in and get hurt. I thought you were supposed to be the big Guardian of the clan. Doesn’t that mean you’re supposed to protect them?”
“Kim,” Liam said. “Don’t.”
“It’s all right, Liam,” Sean answered. “She doesn’t understand.”
“So make me understand.”
Sean looked at her a few moments, then lifted the sword from where it rested beside the couch. He drew it from its sheath and held the sword toward her in both hands, letting Kim see the interwoven Celtic designs etched into the hilt and blade. The workmanship was amazing, the lines featherlight, every single one part of the intricate pattern.
“It’s Shifter forged and Fae spelled. Very old, not meant for fighting.”
“For what, then?”
“The Guardian doesn’t guard the clan,” Sean said softly. “I’m the Guardian of the Gate. The Gate to the afterworld.”
Kim dragged her gaze from the sword to look into Sean’s quiet eyes. “You’ve lost me.”
“It used to be that the Guardian was for his pride only. But now that we’ve taken the Collar, I’m responsible for every Shifter in this Shiftertown. When a Shifter dies or is without hope of survival, I bring the sword. The sword frees the soul, allowing it to enter the Summerland. The Guardian makes sure the souls aren’t stranded, which makes them vulnerable to be enslaved again by the Fae. I save them from that.”
Kim tried to understand, to make her very practical mind believe. “So, when you stand there, watching a fight…”
“I’m waiting to see if the sword is needed. If I join in, and I’m hurt or killed, there’s no one else who can wield the sword. When I die, a new Guardian arises. Usually from the same family, but it’s complicated.”
“Are you telling me that if Dylan had hurt Liam enough tonight, you’d have stuck Liam with the sword? Turned him to dust like you did with that Shifter in my bedroom?”
“He would have, love,” Liam said. “He’d have done what he needed to do.”
“Aye, I’d have sent him to dust,” Sean agreed. “Just like I did with our Kenny.” Sean sheathed the sword, turned on his heel, and walked out of the house, clutching the sword in a tight hand.
“Oh,” Kim said into the quiet. “Now I feel like a complete idiot. What a thing to remind him of. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. I was just so angry at him for not helping you.”
“It’s an old hurt. My fault for not explaining about it.”
Liam looked exhausted, lines etched into his tired face. Kim sat down next him, kissed his hand. “You’re not all right. You told me how strong your dad was, and the Collar really punished you out there.”
“It’s not so bad,” Liam said, his voice nearly a whisper. “Yet. Can you help me up to bed, Kim? I’m thinking I’ll be spending the rest of my mate-bonding night there. Not what I really had in mind, but eventually, I’m going to feel better.” He smiled. “And I’ll want you next to me.”
He tried to speak lightly, but Kim saw the pain in his eyes, remembered how it had clouded him the night he’d saved her from the feral Shifter. She kissed his lips, softly, trying not to hurt him, then put her arm around him and helped him to his feet.
Dylan had never screwed like this before. The sofa springs dug into Glory’s back, and Dylan’s weight pinned her wonderfully. He drove into her hard, harder, never mind the angry scratches and bruises that covered his body. His face was set, his eyes almost feral.
She’d feared that he’d be enraged with her, and he was angry, but it was anger Glory didn’t understand. Instead of berating her when he stormed in her back door, he’d grabbed her and started sexing her before they even reached the sofa. His clothes had already been gone, and she helped him tear off her own clothes before clasping him in her arms. Now Dylan pumped into her until Glory screamed with joy, not caring if everyone in Shiftertown was still outside to hear.
She was under no illusion that Dylan loved her. Dylan still loved his mate and resented himself for what he did with Glory. Dylan tried to be kind, but Glory knew that he considered himself betraying the woman who’d borne his children. His need for Glory angered him. Whenever the anger finally overrode his desires, he’d refuse to see Glory for months.
Glory held on to him, feeling him slip away from her again. Damn it, why couldn’t he make up his mind? He was tearing her apart.
She felt his seed as he groaned with it, and she hoped against hope that this time, she’d conceive. Dylan might consider taking her as mate if she had a cub. It was more difficult to produce a baby cross-species, but it could be done, and Glory would love bearing Dylan’s child.
Glory squeezed him inside her and held him close. Dylan collapsed on her, breath ragged.
The sounds of the revelry outside filtered into the house. The Shifters were enjoying themselves again. The fight was over, nothing had changed, and there was a mating ritual to celebrate. Perfect excuse to party all night.
Dylan disentangled himself from Glory and sat up, breathing hard. He ran his hands through his sweaty hair.
She loved his hair. He kept it fairly short, and it was going gray at the temples, which complemented the fine lines around his eyes. If this man could be hers…
“I won’t ask if you’re all right,” Glory said. Her lips were swollen, and she winced as her tongue found a cut. “You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.”
Dylan didn’t answer. He sat back, still catching his breath. Glory got up and went to the kitchen, gratified that when she came back with a wet towel his gaze was fixed on her naked body.
She sat next to him and started dabbing blood from his face.
“Thank you,” Dylan said. “Are you all right?”
Now she worried. Dylan never reverted to politeness unless things were truly bad. “My Collar gave me only one burst. It went away fast.” A lie, but Glory knew that Dylan’s hurting when it came would be far greater than hers. Staving off the consequences of the Collar brought worse hurt than going along with it.
“I’m sorry, Dylan,” she said. “I didn’t realize Liam would react so strongly. I thought my Collar would stop me, and he’d laugh at me for being foolish.”
Dylan looked away. “I didn’t think he’d react like that, either.”
“And then you leapt in to save me. My hero.”
Dylan shot her a look. Glory went back to dabbing his wounds. “It’s over now,” she said. “You wrestled, you stopped the fight. I’m sorry about Connor.”
“Connor needs to learn to back off until he’s fully grown.” Dylan paused. “And I didn’t stop the fight. Liam did.”
“Liam backed down. I saw him.”
“No.” Dylan’s words were flat. “Liam stopped the fight, because he was winning it.”
Glory froze, and the cloth dripped water on her bare thighs. “Goddess, are you sure?”
“Very sure, love. Liam stopped before he could hurt me. If this had happened before the Collar, he’d have killed me.” Dylan closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of the sofa.
“What are you going to do to him?”
