Hard Mated (Shifters Unbound #3.5)(24)
Author: Jennifer Ashley

Meaning they wouldn’t choose him. Spike didn’t sound angry when he said it, or sad. Just resigned.

Myka remembered his statement last evening on the porch swing—Dumb-ass fighter, that’s Spike.

“If all they see is a dumb-ass fighter,” she said, touching his face. “Then they aren’t looking.”

He stiffened. “Don’t do that.”

Myka stilled. “Don’t do what?”

“Say things like that, while you look at me like that and touch me like that.” He growled. “I won’t let you out of this bed. Not today, not for a long, long time.”

Why didn’t that sound like a bad thing? She touched his face again, turning it into a caress along his sandpaper whiskers.

Spike closed strong fingers around her wrist. “You have your meeting at the stables. What time?”

Myka sighed, rolled over, and looked at the clock on her nightstand. “Shit. Now.” She completed the roll, sliding out from under Spike’s arm, and came up with her feet on the floor.

Spike got out behind her then closed his arms around her body. He pulled her back into him and kissed the top of her head.

They stood that way, swaying a little together, Myka closing her eyes to savor the warmth and strength of him at her back. If she could believe he’d be at her back all the time, watching over her, supporting her . . . her life would be as perfect as it could get.

Spike kissed her cheek then nuzzled her, hands coming up to cup her br**sts. He drew both ni**les gently between his fingers, and kissed her cheek again.

“Let’s get you there,” he said softly.

He stepped away, taking his blissful warmth with him, and gave her a little push on her butt to send her toward her bathroom. There, he proceeded to take a shower with her, soaping her entire body before they made love one more time against the tiled wall.

*** *** ***

Myka hastened into the dusty office at the stable yard, five minutes late, panting and hoping she didn’t look as though she’d had fantastic sex all night and again this morning. The rain had gone, clouds breaking up. In a few hours the city would look as though no rain had fallen on it at all.

The grim faces the other four trainers turned to her when she walked in told her that they neither noticed nor cared about her wild night, nor were they having a productive meeting with the stable owner.

The bottom line, the stable owner told Myka and the other trainers, was that he needed them to come up with half a million if they wanted to make a down payment and stop him negotiating with the developers. If they thought they could get him the money within a week or so, he’d wait, but he couldn’t afford to keep the stables open anymore. He needed a large influx of cash to pay his deceased father’s back debts and move on to more profitable ventures.

Half a million was a ton of money, and even pooling their efforts, the other trainers, all male, said they couldn’t cover it. Neither could Myka, whose savings consisted of some of her riding prizes in the past plus bonuses from owners happy that she’d helped them sell a horse for a good price.

Nowhere near enough to make a dent in five hundred grand. She could put her house up for sale, but considering the market nowadays, there was no guarantee she could sell it quickly, nor make enough even to cover what she still owed on the mortgage. All in all, a depressing meeting.

Spike waited for Myka at one of the outer corrals near her truck. He’d called his friend Ellison as soon as they’d finished showering, and Myka had heard relief in Spike’s voice when Ellison reported that all had been quiet in Shiftertown. Jordan had been up early demanding breakfast, and Dylan had actually cooked for them all.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life paying for that,” Spike had growled when he’d hung up.

Now he was leaning on the top rail of the square corral, watching the two horses inside. Both were Quarter Horses that belonged to a wealthy businessman who paid Myka to make them winners. The gelding had retreated to the far end of the corral, keeping his rump against the bars, while he watched Spike. The mare had planted herself in the middle of the corral and was giving Spike the evil eye.

“She’s a queen bitch,” Myka said, approaching. “Great cutting horse in the ring, when it counts, but when she knows it’s just practice, she’s a devil. She’s put me on the ground more than a few times.”

The mare glanced at Myka, dismissed her, and moved her gaze back to Spike. Her eyes were wider than usual, her nostrils flaring as she took in his Shifter scent.

Spike looked human—mostly—but the mare’s little brain was telling her she should be worried. Or should she? Humans were wusses, only useful for bringing her food, grooming her, or telling her how good she was.

Spike growled. The sound was soft but floated across the corral to the pricked ears of the mare. The mare’s head jerked up, eyes now ringed with white. She whirled around, kicking dirt behind her, and ran the few yards to gelding’s corner to try to hide behind him.

Myka laughed. “Karma,” she called to the mare. “Gets you every time.”

Spike gave the horses one last growl and led Myka to her truck.

As Myka drove back to Shiftertown, Spike listened to her tale of the meeting. She tried to speak lightly, but her distress came to him through her voice, the tightening of her lips and eyes, the change in her scent.

The stables were important to her—they were her territory, Spike sensed, more than her little house was. Her house was where she slept and kept her stuff. The stables were her life.

Good thing Spike would be able to do something about that.

When they reached Shiftertown, a car that had been dogging them ever since the stables abruptly pulled around them and raced off.

Damn it to hell. “Follow him!”

Myka shot Spike a startled look but stepped on the gas. The Shifter was good, though. He darted through traffic and swung onto the busy Airport Boulevard, heading into town and toward the I-35.

“Forget it,” Spike said. “Back to Shiftertown.”

Myka took the next turn and went around the block without missing a beat, heading back the way they’d come. “One of Gavan’s?” she asked. She gripped the wheel with tight, white-knuckled hands. “He’s really serious.”

“He’s screwed. Drop me off at Liam’s.”

Phone calls were too tame for Spike’s fighting blood. He needed action, to kill, to protect, and he needed it now.

Myka asked no questions but drove to the house, following his directions. She understood why he was pissed off, and through his rage, Spike knew that he’d been right about her being the mate for him.