Graham went for Tiger Man’s throat and missed, the tiger landing Graham a spinning blow on the side of his head. Graham staggered, and Tiger Man went after him. But the distraction gave Iona enough time to drag Eric out of the middle of the fight.

Eric’s leopard was in deep pain, his lips pulled back from his teeth in silent agony. His Collar was dormant, but Iona knew the pain came from inside himself.

The humans here had been breeding Shifters to fight for them, Tiger Man had said. No Collars to stop them. But twenty years ago, they’d tried, with Eric, to find a way to control a Shifter with pain.

Iona wasn’t sure if the researchers would consider Eric a success or a failure, but she didn’t care. She knew only that her mate was in pain, and that she’d die if she lost him.

Iona, as her panther, lay down over Eric, desperately trying to warm him with her body. Eric’s eyes had clouded over, and she knew he couldn’t see or hear her. His fur was stifling hot and his heartbeat was way too fast.

A band of iron squeezed Iona’s heart, pain beyond anything she’d felt in her life. If Eric died, she’d die too. She knew that with every breath she took.

No.

She rose, her limbs stiff with fury. Tiger Man was beating down Graham, Graham’s wolf fighting desperately, his black fur covered in blood.

No.

This was what it had been like in the wild, long ago, when Shifters had fought each other to the death for territory, mates, dominance. They’d also fought tooth and claw to protect each other.

Eric was her mate. That meant Iona met any threat to him with violence, and didn’t stop fighting until that threat was dead.

Tiger Man saw that in her eyes. Iona saw in his that he’d been bred to fight until every enemy in his path was slain.

So be it, then. Iona attacked him. Tiger Man met her onslaught, as ready to kill as she was.

Iona would drink of his blood and feast on his bones. She’d scatter his remains throughout her territory as a reminder to all who crossed it what she did to those who threatened the ones she loved.

Iona fought, ripped, bit, pounded. She would kill, and it would feel so good.

“Iona!”

The voice was Graham’s, his harsh, hated wolf’s voice.

Graham would be next. He’d threatened Eric’s leadership, he’d hurt Eric, and he needed to be eliminated. Iona would finish with the tiger, then tear off Graham’s head and lap up his blood.

“Iona, stop!” Graham shouted. “Eric needs you.”

Iona hesitated a split second, and in that second, the tiger got in a blow that stunned her. Iona’s rage returned, and she shifted into her half-human, half-panther form. Kill these males first, help her mate second.

“He’s going to die.” Graham grabbed for her, but Iona spun out of reach. “He needs the touch of a mate. Shit.”

Graham took two rapid steps backward as Iona fixed him with her enraged stare, ready to kill. Then she spun around and drove her claws into the tiger.

“You’re going feral, woman!” Graham yelled at her. “Fight it!”

No. Iona wanted to be wild. Free.

No humans Collaring her, no Shifters telling her what to do. No following rituals and their rules—she’d kill everyone here and race away, no ties to any of them.

Except Eric. She’d take him with her and cure him, and then he’d be hers. No one else would ever touch him again. She’d sequester him in a cave somewhere and have him all to herself. She was an alpha female, and no one and nothing would come between her and her mate and her freedom.

“Holy Goddess, Iona.”

Graham’s voice was like the buzz of an annoying mosquito. She’d swat it down when she was done with the tiger.

Tiger was proving difficult to defeat, but she’d do it in the end. After that, Graham would be nothing.

She heard, dimly, Eric get to his feet. She didn’t have time to rejoice that he was able to do so. Fight first.

Blood. Kill. Defeat.

“Iona.”

Eric’s human voice was weak and full of pain. The pull of it made Iona turn to him, even as the Tiger drew back to strike her down.

Iona saw Eric’s green eyes looking at her down the barrel of a tranq rifle. Before Iona could blink, the rifle popped, and a dart thunked into her chest.

Iona stared at her mate, bewildered, the betrayal hurting more than the pinprick of the dart. “Eric,” she whispered, and then she collapsed.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Eric reloaded the tranq gun Graham had found as fast as he’d ever done anything, and shot the next dart straight into the tiger. The tiger roared and collapsed to the floor, but he didn’t fall unconscious.

The tiger shifted instead into a large man, with an immensity that rivaled even Shane’s. He had a strong face covered with unshaved whiskers, eyes that remained golden yellow, and hair, while matted with blood, showing the orange and black streaks of a tiger.

Eric stared at him a moment before another wash of pain cramped him. The tranq gun slid from his slack grasp, but Graham grabbed it, loaded another dart, and pointed the rifle at the tiger.

“Who the f**k are you?” Graham demanded.

The tiger remained slumped on the floor, watching them with angry eyes. “Twenty-three. I told her.”

“She said humans…created you?”

“Yes.”

“How? How is that possible?”

“I don’t know.”

Eric barely heard them. He crawled to Iona, who’d reverted to human form in her slumber, her beautiful limbs tangled on the floor and covered with claw and bite marks.