Graham listened without moving. No change of expression, no nodding. It was like talking to a statue, except for his watchful eyes.

When Misty finished, Graham said, “Don’t worry about Kellerman. When Eric and I are done with him, he won’t be able to influence a traffic light. But here’s what you do: You run back to Kellerman and tell him some good dirt on me. We’ll make something up. And then you tell me everything you can about Kellerman.”

“Be a double agent, you mean?” That sounded dangerous but preferable to Kellerman having a hold over her.

“Sure.” Graham ran his thumb over the inside of her wrist, a tickle of heat on her skin. “And I’ll help you pick out a tatt.”

“I’m so sorry about this,” Misty said. “When I saw you at the bar, this is not what I meant to happen. I just wanted to talk to you.”

Graham’s callused thumb moved across her wrist again. “Why did you?”

“You looked interesting. And in pain. And lonely.”

Graham stared down at her, and Misty again tried to read what was in his face. A powerful man might take what she’d just said as an insult.

Graham cupped Misty’s cheek, turned her face up to his, and kissed her.

It was a slow, strong kiss that promised a multitude of pleasure. His lips were firm, opening hers without concern. He tasted faintly of the beer he’d drunk and more of himself, the bite of maleness Misty hadn’t experienced in a long, long time.

When he released her, Misty struggled for breath. “What was that for?”

“You look interesting,” he said, his face straight. “And in pain. And lonely.”

“I am. The last two.”

“Then sit here with me awhile,” Graham said.

She shouldn’t. Misty needed to get back to the shop and help her employees fill orders, talk to the wedding party for Saturday, make sure they were stocked with emergency bridal bouquets—this was Las Vegas, after all.

“Yes, all right,” she said.

Misty gazed across the yards to where the woman danced, twirled by another Shifter, while the man laughed. Yes, she was surrounded by crazed animals and naked people, but they didn’t take away from how the man and woman gazed at each other. That was what happiness looked like.

Graham’s body was warm beside her, his hand strong over hers. Misty wasn’t sure where this would go, but for now, she’d enjoy it. Snatch happiness where it’s found, she’d learned. Happiness dissolved all too soon.

“I thought the mating ceremony would make my mating frenzy go away,” Iona said as the music slowed. “But I’m still hungry.”

Eric wrapped his arms around her and swayed into her warmth. “The mating ceremony increases it, love. There’s only one way to conquer the frenzy.”

He read the heat in her eyes. “Too bad all these people are here.”

“They’re busy.” Eric scooped Iona up into his arms, her loose skirt fluttering.

“Eric, wait…”

Iona trailed off as the Shifters started to cheer. They knew exactly where Eric was taking her and what they’d do when they got there.

The cheer grew as Eric carried Iona from the circle and back to his house. The Shifters broke into laughter, applause, louder music, and more raucous shouting as Eric and Iona disappeared inside.

Eric took Iona to Jace’s bedroom, laid her on the bed, and closed the blind against the bright afternoon and the crowd outside.

“I’m barely keeping it in, love,” he said, ripping off his boots.

Iona lay back, so sweetly waiting for him, his dark-haired beauty, her clothes mussed and hair tousled. The garland of daisies and roses had fallen halfway over one blue eye.

Eric fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, fingers shaking. To hell with it. He ripped the shirt open, buttons pinging to the floor, while Iona laughed at him. He peeled off the shirt and T-shirt underneath, then got out of his jeans.

He liked how Iona’s gaze went to him as the underwear came off, her eyes taking in his c**k standing straight out, dark and hard. Her eyes changed to her Shifter’s as she got to her knees, reaching across the bed for him.

Oh, yes. Iona’s hot hands closed around his cock, tugging him closer. Eric lifted the garland gently from her head and tossed it to the nightstand, then he ran his hand through her silken black hair. He tugged open the catches of her shirt, spreading it apart.

She wore a bra underneath, a white slash of lace. Eric sprang the hook, and Iona heaved a sigh of relief.

“I hate wearing bras anymore,” she said. “They chafe. They never used to.”

Iona had to release Eric’s c**k so he could pull the lace from her warm br**sts. He didn’t mind, because he could catch the weight of her br**sts in his hands. Her skin was so smooth, like the finest satin.

“Your panther doesn’t want to be fettered,” he said.

“I suppose in the wild, you always went naked?”

“No way in hell. Scottish winters were cold.”

“Winters here are warm,” she pointed out.

“Doesn’t mean we can’t cuddle up.”

Eric undid the button on Iona’s skirt as he pushed her backward to the mattress. He tugged off the skirt, then the panties, and then she was bare for him.

He wanted to pause to look at her, taking in Iona’s beautiful nudity against the sheets, her full br**sts, flat belly, her twist of hair between her thighs. He wanted to look his fill of her half-closed blue eyes, her sultry smile, the black hair spread across his pillow.