“I’m ready.”
She stood, retrieved the duffel and moved closer to him. When he looked down at her he saw desire etched in her features. Her eyes were cloudy, her lips were slightly parted and her cheeks were flushed. Their gazes caught and her breathing increased, her succulent nipples going hard beneath her bra and shirt, informing him she was more than game for another round of anything he wanted to offer.
Fuck if the Shepherds didn’t piss him off. He had finally found his mate, the only female who would ever sate him entirely, and he was being forced to leave her bereft and needy.
“Soon,” he vowed and took the duffel from her.
Her eyes widened and she looked away. It was embarrassment, he realized. While natural to his kind, the yearning and need to couple often was foreign to her.
“It’s going to be all right.” Placing a hand at the small of her back, he gave her a gentle nudge. “Trust me.”
After collecting her keys and phone, they locked up and started the trek down the stairs. He kept her directly in front of him, eyes alert, nose sharp. The blare of televisions in various apartments merged, along with multiple conversations and, in the distance, the sounds of an ecstatic couple nearing sexual bliss. He tamped down his own need as the image of Pinkie on the counter assailed him, mentally cursing his cock as it slowly rose to life. His mate wasn’t the only one who wanted to cement their union. Ever since he’d gotten a taste of the minx between the sheets he’d been behaving like a teenager who had only recently discovered the joystick between his legs could be manipulated by a flick of the wrist and a firm grip.
The distraction was the reason he didn’t immediately scent the dangerous fragrances of silver and death the moment he opened the glass door to the building. One moment, he and Ava were alone. The next, Shepherds surrounded them, five of them total. Their weapons gleamed brightly in the streetlights as they lifted them into the air. The long, polished steel barrels displayed the etched bible reference: John 10:9.
I am the door. By me, if any man enter in, he shall be saved.
There was only one reason the men in brown dusters and matching Stetsons didn’t fire, and it had nothing to do with bringing unnecessary attention. They didn’t want to hit any of the random passersby who froze in alarm and watched silently.
“You know why we’re here.” The largest one addressed Diskant and leveled his obsidian firearm, his arm, hand and trigger finger nice and steady. “Where is he?”
Diskant shoved Ava behind him and placed his larger frame between her and the gun. She wrapped her arm around his stomach and pressed her chest into his back, remaining close.
“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Don’t lie to me, Omega,” the man cautioned, shadowed jaw clenching. “We know Emory Veznor is finally here. Your pack won’t be able to hide him forever.”
Emory Veznor.
Shit.
Years of practice allowed his face to remain expressionless, giving nothing away as he processed what he knew. Trey was with Emory, who had shown up earlier in the morning after a lengthy and acrimonious absence. He didn’t know the details but could garner a pretty decent guess as to the reason for his unexpected return.
“I don’t know where Emory is,” Diskant answered. Shepherds were good at three things—tracking, destroying what they viewed as unclean and detecting lies.
“Then call to him.”
“I can’t.”
The Shepherd obviously didn’t like the answer. “Explain.”
“Emory severed all ties with the packs in this area before he left. His wolf is no longer mine to call.”
“Then call to his brother—” The Shepherd stopped midsentence, stepped back and slid the gun into a holster beneath his duster as the others did the same. Their focus drifted from Diskant to the vehicles approaching from the east. The big red and blue lights affixed to the roof were dull and silent but all it would take was a decent scuffle and they’d be blazing in all their glory.
Thank fucking god for the neighborhood watch.
“Come on.” Diskant grasped the trembling hand at his waist and started for the bike.
“We won’t be leaving until we have him,” the Shepherd called out but Diskant didn’t respond.
He placed the duffel in front of him, helped Ava climb to the back of the bike and bent to retrieve the half-shell helmets inside the saddlebags. Normally he didn’t bother with them but since Joe Law was helping them out, he’d play the part of law-abiding citizen.
He placed the first on Ava and adjusted the straps before taking care of his own. The police vehicle was getting closer and the Shepherds were standing idly on the sidewalk, watching his every move. If he wanted to put any kind of distance between them he needed to make sure he and Ava were long gone before the police left the vicinity and they were able to return to their mode of transportation and follow.
After he straddled the bike, Ava pressed against him again until her pelvis was flush against his ass. Her body was still shaking, her breathing shallow and uneven.
“What are those men?” she whispered and tightened her hold, burrowing into his back.
He didn’t answer until he started the bike, wanting the loud thrumming of the motor to drown out his voice. He lifted the kickstand with his heel, turned his head and asked, “Do you know what Shepherds are?”
“N-no,” she stammered, and he realized that her body must be burning on one hell of an adrenaline high.
“They hunt our kind.” He kept his right leg on the ground until the bike stabilized as he slowly increased the speed and they drifted onto the street. “When they come around, it’s not a good sign.”
“What do they want?” The heady scent of fear that emitted from her was blessedly carried away as he turned off the street and gave the throttle a generous turn.
“I don’t know,” he answered as he set the engine loose. The wind caressed his face, wrapped around his shoulders and effectively ended the conversation.
But by god, he was going to find out.
Chapter Ten
Diskant stopped the bike in front of a building in West Village. The large window below the vintage Dougan’s Bar sign revealed everything just inside. There was a large bar with stools and a few tables were lined up just along the glass. Even from where she sat, Ava knew the patrons were shifters. Their movements were too powerful, their eyes—which turned the moment Diskant pulled to the curb to study them—too alert.
The motor went silent and she took a deep breath, struggling for control. The last hours had been the most bizarre of her life. She couldn’t decide if she should be frightened or angry at being bossed around and accosted by men with guns. Not when her body continued to crave a solid fucking, as if she truly were no more than a dog in heat.
She grimaced at the comparison but accepted the truth.
With Diskant, everything was primal and raw—her feelings, her reactions, her desires. It was as if she were evolving in some way, becoming someone or something else. Never had chemistry played such a role in her decisions. If she was being honest with herself, she knew that nothing she had done in the last twenty-four hours qualified as rational. Something else was calling the shots, setting the pace, liberating her from a timid mousy novice to a fearless tigress.
The terror she’d felt as she stared down the barrel of the weapon had changed the moment Diskant put her behind him, shielding her from harm. She’d reacted instinctively, reaching out with her mind, seeking the barest essentials from the armed men who looked like they’d jumped straight out of a cheesy Western. They’d been angry, searching for someone who had wronged their congregation, although it had been impossible to take the proper time to explore the path of their thoughts any further.