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Smart people. He was proud of his tribal heritage. His mother had made sure he felt like he belonged. Her brothers had helped to raise him, teaching him to hunt, talking about what it meant to be a man. Her mother, his grandmother, had taken him out to hunt for first foods — the foods that had once nourished their people. The tribe had been as influential as his own father had been. His father had seen to his shifter side and acquiesced to his mother on all other things. And of course, his father had ‘died’ when Ryder was 14.
And then showed up as a long-lost nephew to take an interest in the young Tom George Garrison.
Ryder still didn’t know if his mother had seen through that ruse; she never let on if she had. Smart, because people had died for admissions like that. His father hadn’t tried to strike up a second relationship with Naomi George, however. By then, Naomi had been in her 40s, which might have had something to do with it. Still, Alpha Tom Garrison had made it known that she was under his protection. And until two weeks ago, that had held true. Naomi George was off the table for any power games or even casual mischief. He still didn’t feel like he’d gotten to the bottom of that — but he’d get there.
So, Ryder might be half-Native, half-white, and see himself that way, but the people of the Okanogan hadn’t. They saw him as a Colville, and that was usually said with disgust.
In school there had been three groups: Colvilles, Mexicans, and whites. And if you had a non-white parent, then you were not white. Hell, if you had a non-whitegrandparent, you couldn’t be white. Benny must have really flummoxed them, he thought suddenly amused. A half-white, half-Cambodian teen who could fight like hell? Oh yeah. He wished he’d been around to see that.
Of course, by the time Ryder was born, Benny had been in his 20s, and a lone wolf.
Shifter generations were weird, because now they both looked like they were in their 20s. Ryder could still fake it for his mother —he grew some scruff, tied one on and skipped on sleep, and he looked like a youngish 42 year old. Good enough to visit a woman nearing 70 with failing eyesight.
He pictured taking Jessie home to meet her and sighed. Jessie looked like the 25 year old she really was. And he was going to catch hell from his mother for robbing the cradle. He realized he was already planning onhowto introduce them, not if.
Mate, his wolf agreed.
Ryder chuckled. For a wolf who had two words, he made the most of them.
They were gaining on Jessie, or maybe she was slowing down, realizing she didn’t have a clue where she was going? Ryder snorted. They were headed almost due east. A whole lot of territory out there before they ran into any towns. Might run into some family packs....
He started to jump on her and take her down, and then reconsidered. Instead he ran beside her, letting her set the direction and pace.
It felt good, he thought, bemused, really good. Running with his mate like this? It felt wonderful.
Finally, Jessie slowed to a stop. She changed, and flopped onto the ground, gasping for air and crying at the same time. Ryder changed, and crawled on top of her. “Why are you crying?” he asked, bewildered. “Do you know how amazing you are?”
“I have all these people in my head,” she said. “Who are they?” She looked up at him accusingly. “And I could feel you in my head too. You were talking to me, helping me be strong. What the hell, Ryder?”
He started with the question he could answer. “We’ve got a mate bond forming,” he said. “And Benny coached me on how to funnel energy and support — power, he called it — to you through the bond so you could use it in your fight.”
He grinned at her. “It was an awesome fight.”
She shook her head in denial. “I don’t want it,” she said finally. “I wanted....”
“You don’t want the mate bond?” Ryder said, hurt by that. For days he had resisted admitting it was there, mostly because of the age difference, but also because of the life he’d created for himself. Where did a woman fit into that? A straight woman?
“No, not the mate bond,” Jessie said impatiently. “I’m fine with that. It’s the other part....” She looked up at him, worried. “You want it, right?”
“I want it,” Ryder agreed. And he kissed her hungrily, showing her just how much he wanted it.
And this was not the gentle exploration of last night. Jessie met him passion for passion, touch for touch, kiss for kiss. She urged him to take her, and he did, thrusting hard. This was more about staking a claim —for both of them. He felt her climax, and then his own, and he collapsed on top of her.
She lunged upwards, catching him by surprise, and bit him in the sensitive spot of his neck just below the ear. It was a deep bite, and he yelped in surprise. But she was laving it with her tongue, healing it. Completing the mate bond, he thought hazily, and God, it felt good. So good, his body was responding, hardening again.
“Ryder?” she whispered. “Please....”
His eyelids lowered a bit at the arousal in her voice, he bent down and nipped her. She’d been through so much, he thought, hardly coherently.
She glared at him. “A real bite,” she growled, and he paid attention. “I want a mate’s mark, not a nip.”
He groaned, but his wolf wasn’t leaving it up to him. The wolf surged forward and bit her, tearing the skin, and then licked it, helping it to heal. Mate, the wolf said with satisfaction.
Ryder chuckled and then he made love to hismate.
It was wonderful.
It took a while for them to feel satiated. Ryder had heard about mates from the gossipy old maids —male version —in the Okanogan pack. He didn’t know if any of them had ever had a mate. If so, she was long gone. The Okanogan pack was men only.
