Jordan, oblivious to dominance issues for now, played with a stuffed jaguar Ella must have dragged out of the attic while he half-listened to Dylan.
Spike walked to Dylan, lifted Jordan away from him, and handed the boy to the startled Myka.
“Get out,” he said to Dylan.
Ellison came out of the kitchen at top speed. “Hey, Spike. Calm yourself.”
“Out,” Spike repeated to Dylan. “This is my territory.”
“Spike . . . shit.” Ellison’s distress plucked at him, but Dylan stood up, his gaze never leaving Spike.
“He’s right,” Dylan said. “I don’t belong here.” He didn’t move, though. “Did you find out who was stalking Myka?”
“Yes. Your son.”
Dylan’s eyes flickered. “Liam doesn’t consult me on everything he does. And I don’t consult him.”
Spike believed him. The flicker had been pure surprise.
Dylan didn’t try to touch Spike when he walked past him, and he didn’t turn his head to look at Myka or Jordan. He was acknowledging that Myka was Spike’s, and sending the message that he wouldn’t interfere. He’d have known as soon as Spike and Myka walked in that Spike had made the mate-claim, in any case. He’d have scented the change in Spike, smelled Spike’s scent-mark on Myka.
“Take care of your cub,” Dylan said, then he was gone.
“Did I hear him right?” Ellison asked. “Mate?” He looked Myka up and down, boldly, but Spike didn’t feel a threat there. Ellison understood. “Aw, man, I’m too late again. A beautiful woman comes to Shiftertown, and she’s mate-claimed before I even get a chance. She’s even wearing shit-kickers.”
Myka looked down at her pointed-toed cowboy boots, even dustier than Ellison’s. “I like kicking shit.”
“See? A woman after my own heart. And I have to bow out again.”
“You do,” Spike said.
Ellison flashed him a look. Behind his joking Spike saw his envy. Too many males still ended up mateless, even these days.
Ellison winked at Myka, then he came to Spike and put his hands on his shoulders. “Congratulations, man.” His grip clamped down. “You deserve it.”
Spike put his hands on Ellison’s shoulders in return. Ellison refrained from hugging Spike, likely sensing that Spike was too volatile, turned away, chucked Jordan under the chin, and breezed out.
“Spike,” Myka said. “I mean, Eron. We need to talk.”
“In a sec.” Spike turned away and sought the emptiness of the kitchen, pulling out his cell phone and punching in a number. “Gavan,” he said, when the Feline answered. “I want to meet.”
Chapter Thirteen
Myka spent the morning on the phone trying to come up with five-hundred thousand dollars. Her fellow trainers thought they might raise a hundred and fifty between them, including what Myka could add, but that was it.
Banks and investors weren’t interested. Stables didn’t make money. Horses ate the profits—literally. More than one lender said that to her, thinking it hilarious.
Spike still hadn’t returned when it came time for Myka to leave for Jillian’s funeral. She asked Ellison to come back and help Ella with Jordan, even though she thought Jordan was probably safe enough with only his grandmother. Myka was angry at Liam for going behind Spike’s back to spy on her, but she didn’t think the man would he’d harm Jordan.
She agreed with Spike about not taking Jordan to the funeral. Jordan seemed to understand, with perception a human child might not have, that his mother had been beyond saving. Jordan kept mentioning the Summerland, saying he was glad his mom was safe there.
Myka didn’t want to upset his new equilibrium by taking him to a funeral home with grieving adults. Again, Jordan seemed to understand, and told Myka to tell his mom he loved her.
At the funeral, Sharon was surrounded by her immediate family, who rallied around to comfort her. Sharon told Myka she was getting by all right, and some tension left her when Myka said she thought Jordan would be fine living with his father.
The funeral was as sad as Myka had thought it would be. But she was glad she had the chance to say a good-bye to her friend, the fun-loving young woman who’d lived hard and died too quickly.
Afterward, Myka drove back to Spike’s house. His Shifter neighbors up and down the street watched her return, knowing something had changed between her and Spike. A few raised hands in greeting, many simply watched.
Myka sensed the change in herself as well. Her body felt different—stronger somehow. Her thoughts were restless, and a warm ache spread from her chest to twine her entire body.
Ellison reported that Jordan had wanted to talk a little bit about his mother, but he’d enjoyed having Ellison turn into a wolf so he could ride on Ellison’s back. He was now sleeping off the excitement of that adventure.
“Y’all need to teach him the difference between wolf and doggie,” Ellison said as he put on his hat to leave. “Hurt’s a wolf’s pride.”
Ella laughed at him and told him to get on home. Myka was too restless to talk and paced out on the porch, waiting for Spike.
The ache in Myka’s heart eased as soon as Spike’s motorcycle rounded the corner a little bit later. Jordan was still asleep, and Myka met Spike in the driveway as he swung off his bike, dusty and grim.
Spike slid one arm around her, touched her chin, and pressed a firm kiss her lips. He smelled of dust and the road, sweat and musk.