Colm had taken sentinel duty, deciding to shift and fly around the city. An eagle would always attract attention in New York City, but he couldn’t help that, and if he kept high he might not attract too much notice. Probably get a few photos and a bit of speculation. People weren’t as ignorant of shifters as he’d like, and many resented them. Let them. He considered going in human form but in the end decided on the eagle. He didn’t have a motor bike and he didn’t know the streets as well as Shea.
She turned the corner, her bright yellow bike easy to spot. Someone ran across the road, and she paused. The bike wobbled.
She jerked, once, then again, and red blossomed on her thigh.
Shit, oh shit. Colm didn’t need any more clues. Folding his wings against his body, he streaked down, only using the last few feet to float and cushion his landing. Ignoring the panic engendered by someone firing a weapon in a crowded street in downtown New York, he landed next to her. People were screaming, some yelling and of course they all had their phones and cameras out. This would blow his low profile, and how. Fuck them all.
It was bad. Someone lifted the bike off her, where it had fallen during his dive down to the street, and blood spurted from the rent in her leather suit.
Extending a claw, he tore the garment off her leg, saw the wound, shifted and pressed down on her thigh. She’d passed out; he saw when he glanced at her face. “I’ve called for an ambulance,” someone said.
A cop shoved people aside, his face concerned but determined. “Get back!” he yelled, but nobody was taking much notice of him. “There could be more.”
Oh yes, a mass shooting. Colm didn’t think so. Those shots were targeted. If she hadn’t jerked when the first shot hit her shoulder the second would have been right on target, in her heart. Then the shooter could have gone for her head and made sure of her. His blood ran cold, and it had nothing to do with his lack of clothes.
Colm sent his partner a telepathic message. “Somebody shot her. Get here now.”
He received a terse “On my way,” and then he turned all his attention to Shea. Pressing on the wound stopped the spurting, but his hand was getting slippery with blood as it oozed from the wound.
The cop shoved his way through. “An accident?”
“A bullet.” Colm glanced at her, visually scanning her. “Two.” A rip scored through her upper arm, although, thank God, no serious bleeding. A graze. The leg, that was the important thing. He had to keep it steady.
“Move away, sir.”
“Nope. If I let go of her leg she’ll bleed out.”
He already knew that. “I’m not leaving her.”
“Do you know her? Do you know who did this?”
“We’ve met. I didn’t see who shot her. If I did, I’d tell you. I was flying and I saw her fall off her bike.”
The cop grunted and concentrated on holding people back. From what Colm heard, they were as much concerned with his nudity as they were with the injury that was taking his breedmate away from him.
Primitive needs tore through his veneer of civilization. He’d kill anyone who tried to take her away from him right now. He’d slept with her once, and already he needed her like his next breath. It had taken near-death to force that realization on to him.
“You will live, dammit,” he muttered as the scream of sirens heralded the arrival of the emergency services.
“Let us through.”
The authoritative voice worked wonders, and two people, a woman and a man, both clad in dark blue, rushed through the crowd that had swiftly gathered. The woman cast Colm a glance. “Are you a shifter?”
Thank God she wasn’t making a point of his nudity. He nodded. “But she isn’t. I was in the sky when I saw her. She’s been shot in two places.”
The man was already examining her leg, but Colm didn’t move his hand. “Any chance the shooter is around?”
Colm couldn’t care less unless the bastard reappeared. “There was a cop. He’s probably gone to investigate. Two shots, no more.”
When he saw her go down, he’d acted on instinct, his training kicking in. Protect his target, in this case, his breedmate. Nothing else mattered, least of all his own safety. Get between her and the shooter and trust his partner to take the bastard down. Except his partner wasn’t here, and he wasn’t just on a job. This was much, much more than that.
Nobody else was hurt. That meant someone had targeted her.
He had a spare and elegant form, worthy of Michelangelo’s David or a Phidias statue. Not the muscular figure of a Rodin Thinker, like Colm. Nothing was wasted on Bry. His muscles corded when he moved to touch the control on the wall as he altered the flow of water. His backside was a dream, rounded and firm, and his long back unconsciously demonstrated the flowing muscles of a man in his prime. She wanted, and she wanted him now.
Unlike classical statues, one part of him dominated. His cock was long and thick, darkened with passion, and he hadn’t been circumcised. Most American men were circumcised. In Europe, the trend went the other way, so the sight made her nostalgic in a way she couldn’t help considering crazy, weird, and curious. It was a beautiful cock, curving toward his belly at the tip, and it made her mouth water.
Bry eased the tight foreskin back so it folded down, revealing his cock head in all its glory. It was shiny with arousal, hard with need. Bry stroked himself, down his shaft, smoothing the skin into place. “It’s for you, Shea,” he said, his voice hushed. “When you’re ready.”
Blinking away tears, she nodded. Bry held out his arms, and Colm moved closer to pass her over. Nestling against his smooth, warm skin, Shea could have stayed there for a very long time. Her doubts fled, even though she knew these men were the most dangerous she’d ever had. Not because of their strength, their power, their shapeshifting abilities, but because they had pierced her heart, and she feared she’d never recover from that. He held her carefully, because her brace was pressed against him now, but smiled down at her as he bent his head for a kiss. One she wouldn’t dream of denying him.
He probed her mouth with delicacy and care. She opened to him, getting the strangest feeling that she was giving him more than a kiss. Everything was languorous and slow, and she moved closer to him, moaning into his mouth. Reaching up, she curled her arm around his neck, holding him to her so he couldn’t get away even if he wanted to. He tasted sharp and clean. She could kiss him forever.
Moving away a little, their tongues twined and caressed, touched and tangled in a playful game. With a groan, he pulled her closer, a little rougher, and melded his mouth to hers, kissing her as if the world depended on their getting it right. And they did, so right she couldn’t imagine anything better.
The flow of water stopped. Bry finished the kiss with a series of sweet, gentle kisses, anointing her upper lip, then her lower, then the tip of her nose. Smiling, he shifted her carefully in his arms.
Her dazed feeling had nothing to do with the painkillers she’d taken or the events of the day. “I thought I was too tired.”
“I thought you were, too.”
Maybe she wasn’t. “We have all the time we need, now,” Colm said in a tone even deeper than his usual bass rumble. Turning her head to smile at him, Shea discovered she was the only clothed person in the room. Colm took her breath away every time she looked at him and naked he was even more magnificent. He was hard too, his large cock wet with arousal.
Could this be possible? Two cocks all for her, and neither man a rival?
But looking from Colm’s dark expression to Bry’s she realized that wasn’t entirely true. Tension filled the air, desire, rivalry and reluctant acceptance arcing between the two men. “Are you both alphas?”
“All eagles are alphas,” Colm said grimly. “It’s in our nature to hunt and conquer.” His features relaxed slightly. “We’ll give you a good time, honey, but not tonight.”
“We’re also fierce in protecting the people under our care,” Bry added. “And that is you. It always will be.”
Stepping forward, he held her while Colm kissed her. He made as thorough a job as his breed partner, tasting her extensively, running his tongue around the inside of her lips and her teeth. He claimed her in the most primitive way possible, gave her no chance of her escaping his intention; to make her his.
She responded. With one arm still around Bry’s neck, she reached out with her other, holding his upper arm, curling her fingers over his biceps. Bry made a sound that was close to a purr. “You’re so fucking sexy.”