Mate Bond Page 6

  “Thank you, Ms. O’Donnell,” Ramirez said when she finished. “I don’t like stories of giant monsters attacking people. Even if the stories are exaggerated, there’s still a threat. Shifters are in a good position to help me stop it. You can do things I can’t. So I’d appreciate it if you shared anything else you find out. I want to get this thing as much as you do.”

  Kenzie listened to him, startled. “Work together, you mean?”

  Humans rarely wanted to. Though it was obvious to Kenzie that Shifters would be great in military situations or law enforcement, people had been too afraid of them to put them in positions where they could wield weapons or fight humans.

  Ramirez gave her a nod. “Surprised?”

  “Yes. I have to wonder why you want to.”

  “Because I took this job because I like to keep people safe. If Shifters can help me do that, I’m not going to pass up the opportunity to recruit them.”

  Kenzie believed him. She’d spent a lifetime reading body language, and his told her he put protecting people first, and rules second. “Won’t you get into trouble?” she asked.

  He slanted her a grin. “I wasn’t planning on asking permission, or even mentioning it to anyone.” He became serious again. “I’m not interested in office politics. I want to catch this thing and figure out what it is before it does any more damage.”

  Kenzie turned over the possibilities in her mind. Having insight into what the police were doing and what they’d heard about the incident might help Kenzie and Bowman determine where the monster had been taken, and who had taken it there. Bowman would be less than thrilled to learn he had to trust a human, but Bowman had often told Kenzie he liked that she was resourceful. Well, Ramirez was a resource.

  She let out a breath. “All right.”

  “Thanks,” Ramirez said. “I appreciate that. I’d appreciate it too if I could speak to your mate.”

  “He’s kind of cranky right now,” Kenzie said. “He’s like that when he’s healing.”

  Ramirez laughed suddenly. It was a deep, warm laugh, one that would make others laugh with him. Kenzie wanted to smile in response.

  “I’m like that too,” Ramirez said. “Ask him if, when he feels better, I can come talk to him.”

  “You want to come to Shiftertown?” Kenzie asked quickly.

  “Better I go to him than he come see me at the station. People would get the wrong idea.”

  “If Shifters see you roll up to our house in uniform in a patrol car, they’ll get the wrong idea as well. Shifters get nervous around police.”

  Ramirez shrugged. “Then I’ll come by after work and not in uniform.” He gave her an open look. “I’m asking for help. That’s all. I think Shifters can help me do my job better, and I’m happy to work around regs to do it. So what do you say?”

  He sounded sincere, but Kenzie had spent the last twenty years being suspicious of everyone. Ramirez might be the exception to the rule, or he might be trying to play Kenzie and the other Shifters for his own reasons. Only one way to find out, really.

  She flashed him a sudden smile. “Sure. Come tonight and meet Bowman.” That would be fun to watch.

  “Thanks, I will. After I’m off duty.”

  “It’s a date. Am I free to go now?”

  Ramirez laughed again, that rich, warm sound. “You always were. See you, Ms. O’Donnell.”

  “Kenzie.” She gave him another smile, opened the door, and climbed out of the car. Across the way, Jamie and Cade came alert, but again she waved them off. “See you, Mr. Ramirez.”

  “Gil,” Ramirez said. “When I’m off duty.”

  “See you, Gil,” Kenzie said, and shut the door.

  She hated to admit it, even to herself, as she turned away. She liked him.

  * * *

  Bowman woke from a sleep a few hours after Kenzie had gone and found Ryan, who was no longer snuggled against him, standing at the foot of his bed. “Woman’s here to see you,” Ryan said, his eyes narrow. “Human. Says she’s a vet.”

  “Just came to check on you.” The breezy voice of the woman who’d set his leg last night came to him from the hall. “I like to follow up on my work.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The vet swept into the room. Bowman hadn’t had a clear look at her the night before—he’d been in severe pain, the back hall had been dim, and she’d been wearing groupie makeup.

  Bowman remembered her scent, though. Beneath the perfume, which she’d left off today, she’d smelled clean, like soap. Today she smelled like antiseptic and whatever scared dog or cat she’d been working on.

  Cat, Bowman decided, wrinkling his nose. All felines had a distinctive odor, whether Shifters or house cats.

  The woman was about thirty, with a pointed face and blond hair pulled into a no-nonsense ponytail. Now that she had no penciled-in cat whiskers and cat’s eyes and had taken the black paint off her nose, he could see her cheekbone structure, light-colored lashes, and light green eyes. She wore no makeup at all, in fact, her lips a pale brownish red. She wasn’t as tall as Kenzie but she had curves beneath her button-up shirt and slacks. Obviously she’d just come from work.

  “So?” she asked. “How’s the leg? Got it re-splinted, I see.”

  Bowman lay still, not bothering to pull the blankets over his naked chest. His lower half was covered, except for the leg stuck out over the sheets.

  “I didn’t catch your name,” he said.

  She smiled, revealing dimples. “It’s Patricia. Patricia Brookman.”

  “Dr. Brookman,” Bowman said, giving her a nod.

  Her smile widened. “Too formal. Everyone calls me Dr. Pat. You don’t have to call me anything if you don’t want to.” Her scent and her babbling conveyed her nervousness. “I don’t know what to call you. You’re the leader of all the Shifters around here. I don’t know if I’m supposed to bow or what.”

  “If you bow, my son will shit himself laughing,” Bowman said in all seriousness. “Just call me Bowman.”

  “Fair enough. You haven’t answered me about the leg, you know. How is it?”

  She advanced into the room, her gaze on the splint, as though longing to take it off and examine what was beneath.

  “A lot better,” Bowman said, not moving, though he had the sudden urge to wriggle his toes. They were starting to itch. “I’ll be healed in a day or so.”

  Pat’s eyes widened. “No, you’ll be healed in about six to eight weeks. Those bones were seriously shattered.”

  “Shifters heal fast,” Bowman said—he kept saying the words, reassuring everyone to also reassure himself. “You sticking them back together last night helped a lot. I thank you.”

  “Did it help? You were up on it, and you re-broke it running around the parking lot.”

  Bowman shrugged. “It had already started to set by that time. When a Shifter’s fighting adrenaline is up, the metabolism speeds up even more. Hell of a hangover the next day, but we can heal at the same time as we fight.” An exaggeration, because he felt like shit, and rebreaking the leg had caused a boatload of pain. But it never hurt to make Shifters seem invincible.

  “Interesting.” Pat looked thoughtful. “I’d think the adrenaline would hinder the healing process, kind of putting it aside until the danger is over. You might not feel pain, but you shouldn’t get better until much later.”

  “No idea,” Bowman said, unworried. This woman was so harmless she amused him. He kept an eye on her and assessed her to figure out what she truly wanted, but for now, she could ask questions. “Healers might understand it, but I’m just a fighter. I fight, I heal. It works—I don’t argue.”

  “There are Shifter healers?” Dr. Pat took another step toward the bed, caught up in her curiosity. “What do they do?”

  Bowman shrugged. “They heal Shifters.”

  Ryan had remained silent the entire time, having taken a seat on the chair Kenzie had vacated. He pretended not to be there, but he watched, and he listened. Smart cub.

&
nbsp; “Really?” Dr. Pat asked. “Do you have clinics or special hospitals? I’ve never heard of them—do you think I could meet a healer?”

  Bowman lifted one hand to slow her chatter. “There aren’t many around, and no, we don’t have our own clinics. We go to human ones. Healers are . . . special. And shy. Don’t try to find one.”

  “Oh.” She looked puzzled. “Do they go to med school? How do you become a Shifter healer?”

  “You’re born one,” Bowman said. “It runs in families. Parents train cubs.”

  “Cubs . . . Oh, you mean kids.” She shot a glance at Ryan, who stared right back at her. “So it’s like an apprenticeship. Neat. The surgical practice was like that, ages ago, before we had med schools and vet schools. Surgeons historically were looked down upon by doctors, you know, and now surgeons are top of the profession. Strange, isn’t it?”

  She continued to babble. She didn’t need to be nervous, but Bowman wasn’t going to tell her that. “Are you a surgeon?”

  Her flush deepened. “I am. But not for humans. Animals pull my compassion—they have as many hurts and diseases as humans, and they need care too.”

  “You don’t have to explain that to me. I’m surrounded by animals every day.”

  Her eyes were starry. “Shifters are the best of both, aren’t they? Animal and human. The strengths of each. Maybe the weaknesses too? Would be fascinating to study . . .”

  Bowman’s amusement swiftly died. “Humans like to study us a little too much,” he said in a hard voice. “They dragged us into laboratories when we were first discovered and tried to figure out what made us work. Not all Shifters survived the process.”

  “Oh.” Now Pat was bright red and no longer smiling. “I didn’t mean like that. I mean study you to learn how to heal you. Like I studied to be a vet. I didn’t mean . . . dissection.”

  “No, you didn’t.” Bowman looked her over. Harmless, he decided again. He read her scent, her eager chatter, the look in her eyes. She was interested in Shifters because they were Shifters, not for some ulterior motive.

  That was his assessment, anyway. Kenzie would probably get a better reading of her. Kenzie was wise about people.

  “Is that why you dress up?” Bowman asked her, letting his voice soften to teasing. She was easily played, this woman, and maybe she could be of use. He’d learned long ago how to quickly classify humans and Shifters into either being useful or dangerous—the hazard of inheriting clan leadership at a young age. “You dress up because you want to know how to heal Shifters?”

  “It’s fun,” Pat said, meeting his gaze, her cheeks still pink. “That roadhouse you go to—the crowd isn’t really my scene, but if I dress up like the other girls, I get to watch Shifters. You and your friends think I’m just one of the groupies and don’t pay attention to me. I can stand by and observe, which is what I like to do.”

  Bowman cocked a brow. “You know a lot of the groupies go there hoping for sex with a Shifter. What if one of mine took you up on it?”

  She looked suddenly shy, shooting another look at the listening Ryan. Bowman had no problem discussing sex in front of his son—Ryan already knew Shifters enjoyed healthy sex lives. Ryan had no interest in it himself, wouldn’t until his Transition, but Shifters didn’t shield their cubs from knowledge of sex. Sex was natural—how else would they make more cubs?

  “It might not be such a bad thing,” Dr. Pat said, flushing. She was a woman who couldn’t help being honest, Bowman deduced.

  He laughed. A genuine laugh, which was something he hadn’t felt like doing in a long time. “Tell you what, Dr. Pat, when I’m better, I’ll introduce you to some Shifters. They like to talk about themselves, so you’ll learn a lot. Maybe more than you want to know.”

  And Bowman’s Shifters knew better than to impart anything humans couldn’t already find out on their own. They’d feed Dr. Pat a lot of bullshit, and Shifter secrets would stay Shifter secrets.

  Dr. Pat looked grateful. “I’d like that. Now, would you mind if I had a peek at your leg? As a doctor, of course. I’m very interested in seeing how it’s doing.”

  * * *

  When Kenzie returned, she knew instantly that someone else was in her house. She caught a whiff of scent as soon as she walked in the front door. Bowman’s and Ryan’s scents were the most predominant, as well as her own, but woven in with theirs was something female and clinical.

  She recognized the scent a heartbeat later—the vet who’d set Bowman’s leg last night.

  Sounds came next: a woman’s laughter and Bowman’s rumbling baritone. Kenzie strode down the short hall and slapped open the door to the bedroom she shared with her mate.

  Bowman lay propped up on the bed’s pillows, covers over his hips, his hair still a mess. Ryan sat cross-legged on the chair, watching in silence. The vet was sitting at the end of the bed, Bowman’s bare leg in her lap, her hand on Bowman’s calf.

  A sheen of red rose before Kenzie’s eyes, and a snarl clogged in her throat.

  Bowman looked leisurely up at her—he’d have known the moment she walked into the house. His gaze was unworried, and he was completely relaxed, hands resting calmly on the sheets. He was conveying to Kenzie that there was nothing at all in this room to worry about, but Kenzie’s Shifter instincts roared to life.

  Mine. Her hands started to sprout claws, and her skin prickled, fur wanting to come out.

  The vet looked up. “Hey,” she said in a friendly tone. “You’re Kenzie, right? I just popped by to make sure Bowman was doing all right.”

  Kenzie couldn’t speak. If she did, whatever came out would be unintelligible, or possibly an all-out wolf howl as she went for the kill.

  Bowman knew it. He pinned her with his cool stare, the one he used when he planned to make the world obey. Even Kenzie had to stop in her tracks when he wore that look.

  His eyes changed from warm gray to cold, his face so still it might be carved from granite. The damaged leg and the woman petting it didn’t exist for him. His world narrowed to Kenzie, his gaze commanding her not to gut the nice vet with the blond hair.

  Ryan tensed, sensing the silent battle between his parents. Kenzie saw Ryan shiver, the tiny cub inside him wondering whether he’d have only one parent when the confrontation was over. Which one would it be, and what would he do?

  Kenzie’s maternal instinct slammed against the mate’s instinct, and the mother won. “Ryan,” she said, surprised her voice sounded almost normal. “Will you come outside and help me with something?”

  She held out her hand. Ryan flashed a glance at Bowman, who gave him the barest nod.

  Ryan slid off the chair with the energy of youth and walked to Kenzie. Walked, she noted. A few years ago, he would have darted to her side. Now Ryan wanted to show more self-reliance. Her heart squeezed.

  The touch of Ryan’s hand in hers calmed her. Ryan must have realized that, so he didn’t try to pull away after a brief clasp. Instead, he locked his hand around Kenzie’s and walked her out of the room. Who was helping whom, Kenzie couldn’t say.

  She and Ryan went out into the backyard, where Kenzie dragged in a long breath. Ryan carefully let go of her hand, watching her as though to see whether she’d stay here, calming herself, or run back inside and rip out the vet’s throat.

  “You all right, Mom?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She took another breath, letting the serenity of the tall trees soothe her. “I’ll be fine.” Far down the row of widely spaced houses, other cubs were playing. One waved to Ryan, then stood up and waited to see if he’d come over.

  Ryan acknowledged his friend and shot a question at his mother.

  “Go,” she said, putting amusement in her voice. “I promise I won’t kill anyone.”

  “It’s not like that, Mom,” Ryan said. “I was watching.”

  No doubt he had been, and no doubt he was right. Not much got past Ryan. “Thank you,” Kenzie said sincerely. “Go. Be back for supper.”

  Relieved of the duty of g
uarding his parents, Ryan ran off toward his friend’s yard. He ran fast, the strength in his legs, which she swore grew longer every day, apparent.

  They were the luckiest Shifters, Kenzie thought as she watched Ryan. Unlike other Shifters around the country, who’d been stuck into the slum ends of cities, their Shiftertown had been built in deep woods, in an abandoned housing project from early in the last century.

  The houses were surrounded by old-growth forests, with trees that reached several hundred feet, branches reaching out well above the floor of the woods to provide a roof of green. Pine needles carpeted the ground, inches thick. The air always smelled slightly damp but cool, and wind perpetually creaked in the trees high above.

  Clean air, far from giant industrial cities, and mountains rising to surround them in beauty at all times. The small houses had been originally built with a woodsy theme, their walls fabricated to look like split logs rather than actually being split logs from any trees around here. In summer, this area could be hot, the air turning dank and humid. Winters, on the other hand, could be fairly mild, with dustings of snow to keep everything moist.

  Shiftertowns were places of confinement, but this Shiftertown had always felt welcoming to Kenzie. She’d been to others that made her uncomfortable, but here she’d found home. Didn’t matter that she wore a Collar and couldn’t run free—yet, Bowman would always add—she’d discovered a sort of peace here.

  Her clan had come from Romania, in the wilds of the mountains there, which was perhaps why she liked this Shiftertown in the middle of nowhere. But here, Kenzie was no longer alone. In Romania, she’d been part of the clan run by her formidable uncle Cristian and dominated by her grandmother, Afina. Kenzie’s immediate family, however, had all passed when she’d been a tiny cub. Lonely and withdrawn, she’d known no one but her cousins, and since Shifters couldn’t mate within the clan, and Uncle Cristian wasn’t letting her out of his sight, she thought she’d never find a mate of her own.

  Then Shifters had been outed, the clan had been rounded up, and Uncle Cristian’s Shifters had been herded to the States and this Shiftertown.