“Kiesha, I keep telling you, we can’t interfere with the bonding process,” Alex reminded.
“When it comes to the Raven pack, I’ll stay out of it, but when it’s my cousin, there’s no way in hell I’m sitting back and letting her get hurt,” Kiesha stated firmly.
“Kee, I got this,” Shayla inserted in a no-nonsense tone of voice.
“But—”
“No, Kee. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ll handle it,” Shay said.
“But Shay—”
Alex cut her off. “Kiesha, she said she’d handle it.”
“Fine!” Kiesha slammed down her receiver, and Shayla flinched and jerked the phone away from her abused eardrum. Hell, she’d really have to do some fence mending with her cousin later.
“Let us know if you need anything, Shayla. Despite what I said, if your safety depended on it, I’d start as many wars as necessary,” Alex said before he too disconnected.
“None of this makes sense. My brother loves you,” Shannon stated when it was just the two of them.
Shay sank onto the side of the bed. “He does?”
She knew he was possessive of her, or rather the baby, but love?
“Yes, told me so himself. I’ve never seen him like he was while you were gone. He was grieving. Rory…and his beast,” Shannon said with great certainty. “Did anything happen?”
“He…we…I…” She broke off, her face hot like it was on fire. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to continue. “He might have lost control, a bit.”
“Oh. Shay, are you sure you’re all right? Because the only reason I can think of that would cause a male shifter to send his mate away is fear—for her safety.”
“Shannon, you know Rory wouldn’t hurt me.”
“I know he wouldn’t, but does he?” Shannon paused to let that sink in before continuing, “Call me if you need me.”
Shannon’s question gave Shayla something to consider while dressing before going downstairs to find her mate, who had some serious explaining to do. She wasn’t sure at what point she’d switched from merely tolerating this relationship for the sake of their baby to actively wanting it, but she wasn’t letting go, especially not if he loved her. She’d seen—first with Alex, then with Hugh—how shifter males were with the women they loved. She’d never thought to experience it for herself, with any man, but if what Conor and now Shannon said was true…
She thought about how tender and caring he’d been with her since her return. He was still as possessive and sex-crazed as ever, but there was a new element in his touch. She’d thought it was because she was pregnant, but maybe it wasn’t. Shannon knew him best. If she said Rory loved her, it must be true.
So what’s this all about?
The man knew exactly what he’d been doing. He’d called Kee and got her all riled up, knowing with her protective nature, she was the one most likely to take exception to his words and come to the rescue. Then he’d run like the coward he was. She couldn’t find him anywhere in the house, and she’d looked everywhere—with the exception of the double-bolted door she assumed led to the basement and its mysterious contents.
Shay wasn’t going chasing all over the countryside after him. One, it was a good way to get lost, and two, the man had to come home sometime. Right now she had more important matters to attend to, like her empty, growling stomach.
Rory silently padded toward the house. He was weary, his coat filthy, covered with dried blood from the brambles and thickets he’d run through. His paws were sore and tender. He’d deliberately run through the roughest terrain he could find, making trails where there were none. He hadn’t eaten all day, barely drank any water, and even now the thought of food held little appeal.
At least his mate and unborn cub were safe.
It was his only solace. The hope he’d clung to as day slowly faded to night. For that small comfort, he could live with the pain. Deal with his beast that howled with grief and snarled in fury every time he thought of the mate he’d sent away or got a whiff of her scent, still on his body.
He shifted at the back door and paused, gathering himself to enter his once more empty house. As he opened the door, Shay’s scent hit his nose like a hammer. Altogether she’d been here less than twenty-four hours, and yet her sweet fragrance saturated the building. Shay and… He sniffed the air. Popcorn?
Then he heard it. The television was on. Quietly closing the door, he crept into the den, unable to believe what his senses were telling him. Stunned, he stopped in the arched entry and stared. Shay sat, leaned back in his favorite black leather rocker-recliner, a bowl of popcorn in her lap, eyes glued to the screen. She was completely and totally oblivious to his presence.
Why was she still here?
He’d planned it perfectly. Kiesha should have swooped in and snatched her up. Once she finished telling Shay what he’d said—and probably a few things he hadn’t—Shay should have left in a fit of fury, especially after his earlier treatment of her. He didn’t understand.
What went wrong?
“We need satellite. The reception here sucks.” Shay’s voice broke into his musings.
“What are you doing here?” he snarled, trying to ignore the way his beast almost quivered with joy at her presence.
“I live here.” She tossed another handful of popcorn into her mouth and noisily munched on it.
“I don’t want you here.” He choked out the lie.
“Tough.” She didn’t even give him the courtesy of looking at him as she made her pronouncement.
Frustrated and angry, he stalked into the room until he towered over her, blocking her view of the television. She leaned to the right, and he moved with her. Then she leaned to the left, and he did the same. Finally she huffed and glared at him. “Do you mind?” she barked.
“Yes, I do. For the love of God, woman, have you no sense of self-preservation? Leave now before I hurt you worse than I already have,” he snapped.
Shay looked him dead in the eye and…laughed. In his face, and no light chuckle either. This was a “slap your leg, bend over at the waist, laugh till you cry while gasping for breath” type of laughter.
He stood there feeling foolish and more than a bit perturbed. Putting on his fiercest, cruelest expression—the one that sent grown male shifters running for safety—he planted his hands on his hips and glared her into submission.
Or that was the plan.
Shay took one look at his face, and the laughter that was tapering off exploded into life again. He growled, breathing heavily through his nostrils, and resisted the almost overwhelming urge to shake her silly. He was Rory McFelan. Alpha of the Sparrowhawks. Son of the most feared wolf-shifter in the tristate area, and she dared to laugh at him?
Shay snorted while drying her cheeks with her palms, smearing butter on one as she panted, trying to catch her breath. She laid one hand on her chest and held the other out beseechingly. “Sorry,” she gasped. “Give me…a moment…to compose…myself.”
She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply a few times before finally seeming to calm. When her gaze once more fell on him, she snickered briefly before firmly clamping her lips together. He could still see the merriment in her eyes, though.
“You mind telling me what the hell is so amusing?” he snarled, left eye twitching, so furious that he was dangerously close to shifting.
“The idea of you…hurting me.” She chortled again, as though she found the very thought of it absolutely hilarious.
Her amusement and the certainty behind it confused him and had the effect of defusing his anger. Head tilted to the side and eyes narrowed, he waited until she quieted. “I hurt you. You whimpered.” Of this he had no doubt. He’d thought of little else all day.