Jennifer Ashley: Hard Mated

Spike stared back at Jordan just as hard, the shock mutual.

“Jordan,” Jillian said from the bed. “Do your trick for Mommy.”

Jordan, caught in the spell of Spike’s gaze, remained frozen for another moment. Then he looked away and stripped off his shirt. Almost proudly, he shoved down his pants and underwear and stood without clothes, as unashamed as the Shifters had done at the hay barn.

The little boy lifted his arms over his head, closed his eyes, then gave a little squeak as his body changed shape.

His legs bent and became haunches, his little feet morphed into awkwardly big paws. Jordan’s hands became paws before his arms did, the smooth spotted pelt sliding down to join the one that rose up his chest. His face elongated into a cat’s nose, ears popped up on his head, and his eyes became rounder, fuller, eyelashes and whiskers growing swiftly. The fur that covered him was dark yellow with the broken black bands of a jaguar.

In only a few seconds, Jordan dropped to all fours and let out a tiny wildcat yowl.

The suspicion on Spike’s face turned to amazement then a hungry longing. Before Myka could stop him, he bent down and scooped up the cub between his big hands.

He lifted Jordan to his eye level, staring at the cub, who wriggled and squirmed but not in alarm.

They studied each other, Shifter and cub, the big man’s eyes wide, the cub’s unworried. Jordan opened his mouth and emitted another little growl.

“I named him Jordan,” Jillian said. “He’s yours. Take care of him for me, all right?”

Spike didn’t take his eyes from Jordan. Myka saw the pulse in Spike’s neck, the hard beats pressing under the Collar.

Sharon waited, her fingers playing with the clasp on her cigarette case. Myka waited too, for Spike to deny it, to tell Jillian to prove it, to bail the hell out of there. Men didn’t like suddenly to be told that they were fathers, didn’t want to be held accountable for whatever grew from their sperm.

Spike lifted Jordan higher. Jordan’s paws and hung down from Spike’s giant hands, his tail snaking around Spike’s wrist.

“My cub,” Spike said. “My cub.” His voice rose to a deep roar that shook the window across the room. “My cub.”

“Yes,” Jillian whispered, then her eyes drifted closed, and she slid back into her morphine sleep.

Jillian never woke again. She slipped away around two in the morning. Spike didn’t see her go, because he’d been sent to the waiting room with Jordan while Myka and Sharon stayed with Jillian. Spike was alone with Jordan now, the other people who’d been waiting having gone home or to sleep elsewhere in the hospital.

Jordan slept in Spike’s lap on top of Spike’s wadded-up sweat jacket, the boy back in human form and dressed again.

Holy Mother Goddess, he had a cub.

Made total sense for Spike to take the kid back to Shiftertown. Jillian’s mom would never be able to hide the fact that Jordan was Shifter, and she wouldn’t know how to raise a Shifter cub anyway. And if someone found out about Jordan being a Shifter, humans would step in and take him the Goddess knew where.

No. He’s mine!

Wherever this protectiveness had come from, Spike didn’t care. Jillian had been smart to send for him. Spike could take Jordan home, watch over him, raise him, and keep him from harm. Sean Morrissey, the second-in-command of Shiftertown and its Guardian, had access to a database he called the Guardian Network, and could futz birth certificates and paperwork and make everything seem legit. Sean was talented with that stuff. If humans thought to question where Jordan had gone, they’d see him as a registered Shifter with Spike as his father. Jillian, with her interest in Shifters, had probably known that could be done.

He had a cub.

In spite of the tragedy—Jillian had been a sweet little thing, and far too young to pass—Spike’s mouth kept wanting to spread into a smile.

That is, until Myka walked in, a scowl on her face.

“She’s gone,” Myka said curtly.

Spike touched his chest, which had constricted with pain, then lifted his fingers to the sky. “The Goddess go with her.”

Myka eyed Spike in complete distrust. Spike rested his hand on top of the sleeping Jordan’s back. Myka was not going to take Jordan away from him.

“So you want to keep him then?” Myka asked.

“Well, yeah, I do. I’m his dad.”

She kept staring at him, arms folded, which pushed her breasts to the top of her cute tank top. “That doesn’t mean you’ll be a good father. You have other kids?”

“No.” Again Spike caressed Jordan’s back. “Just him.”

“Sharon and I have been taking care of him fine between us. Jillian lived with her mom. Jordan’s used to us, and Sharon’s his grandmother.”

She didn’t get it, did she? “If humans found out he was Shifter, they’d take him away from her,” Spike said. “He’ll need to shift, to run, to be his wildcat. He won’t be able to help himself. In Shiftertown, he’ll be safe.”

Myka let out a sigh. “I know that. But it’s taken me a long time to talk myself into letting him go to a male Shifter. Isn’t there a woman in Shiftertown he can live with? Someone you know who could take care of him—and let us see him whenever we want?”

Spike growled. “Let another family take care of my son? Screw that. Anyway, there’s my grandmother. She can help me look after him.”

“Your grandmother lives with you?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t she?”

Myka’s lips pressed together then released into a forward push, as though she contemplated deep thoughts.

“How do you know for certain that he’s your cub?” she asked. “Jillian told me you were the only Shifter she slept with, but she might have been lying for her own reasons. She sure went to Shifter bars a lot.”

Spike had never seen Myka at one. “I take it you’re not into Shifters.”

“No.”

Spike lifted Jordan, who weighed next to nothing, and cradled him against his chest as he stood up. “Markings. His coat. He’s got my family’s markings.”

Again the stare, the assessment. What the hell was with her?

Finally Myka let out a sigh. She dug a tiny notebook out of her big purse and scribbled something down. She tore out a piece of paper and held it out to him.

“This is my phone number. You call me if Jordan needs anything, or when the novelty of being a father wears off and you want to give him back.”

Like hell he would. Spike only looked at her, making no move to take the paper. Besides, he’d have to disturb Jordan to do it.

Myka clenched her jaw, took the last step forward, and slid the paper into the top of Spike’s jeans pocket. Her fingers were warm through the denim, firm, strong.

Myka snatched her hand back and turned away so fast her purse swung and smacked her in her ass. The shapely ass that swayed as she hurried to the door again. “I have to take Sharon home and help her with . . . everything. You need a ride back to Shiftertown?”

Spike caressed his cub’s back again. “I can call for one.”

“Fine.” She hesitated again. “Be discreet when you leave?”

“Why the hell wouldn’t I be?”

Another dithering second, Spike scenting Myka’s sharp worry. Finally, she opened the heavy door and walked out. Spike heard her footsteps clicking down the hall, as though she were determined not to let herself turn back.

Spike walked out of the hospital ten minutes later, holding Jordan under the hooded jacket he now wore. He’d gone down back stairs and through empty corridors, avoiding all humans as he made for the dark parking lot. Jordan felt right nestled against his side, his little fists gripping Spike’s shirt, as though he knew, even in his sleep, that Spike was his new protector.