The groupie’s words choked in her throat, her nervousness turning to full-blown fear. “I wanted . . . I just wanted to talk . . .”

Bowman shoved her away. “I know what you wanted.” He leaned down and pulled up his jeans, taking his time. “You wanted to come here and get all up in our shit and go tell the world about it. I don’t know if you’re a reporter or a detective or a do-gooder, but I want you out of here, away from my Shifters.”

The pseudo-groupie had the presence of mind to point out the obvious. “You don’t own this place. This isn’t Shiftertown. You can’t tell me to leave.”

Her breathless groupie eagerness had gone, replaced by the hard, nasally voice of a woman who liked having her own way. Bowman wasn’t impressed. His hands clamped down on her shoulders again, and a very wolf growl came out of his throat.

“I might not own the bar.” His voice went low, as it did when he was truly angry. “But I know the owner, and he doesn’t like people coming here and giving Shifters trouble. Let me give you a tip—I’m way nicer than he is. So get out, or I’ll let him and his bouncers take you off the property in a more forceful way.”

“Now you’re threatening me?”

Bowman said nothing. He only looked at the pseudo-groupie, and Kenzie scented the wolf in him getting ready to come out. Bowman was careful, but he was still pretty close to wild, and he didn’t like his authority challenged in any way.

He hadn’t said so—the woman wouldn’t understand—but Bowman considered this roadhouse to be part of his territory. Humans might have confined Shifters to Shiftertowns and restricted them from owning places like this bar, but true Shifter territory stretched from one Shiftertown to the next. There was another Shiftertown far to the west of them in the middle of Tennessee, and Bowman considered that his territory ended about fifty miles from that, where the other leader’s territory began.

By Shifter thinking, Bowman had a perfect right to sling this woman out. Humans wouldn’t see it that way though.

The woman started to reach for something in her purse. Pepper spray? A gun? Bowman caught her hand, his growl rumbling across the empty parking lot, vibrating the ground.

Shit. If Bowman hurt the woman, or even scared her bad enough, the human cops would be all over this place in a heartbeat. Bowman would be dragged away in cuffs spelled to contain Shifters, and probably every Shifter in the roadhouse would be arrested along with him.

Only one thing to do. Kenzie hurried out of the shadows, making for the two of them. At the last minute, she slowed and pretended to be out for a nonchalant stroll. She put a sway in her hips as she eased herself up to Bowman and draped her arm around his neck.

The heat of him came to her, along with his wild scent. The strength of him quivering under her touch made Kenzie flush with warmth.

Bowman’s entire body went rigid. No one touched an alpha when he was at the height of his anger, especially not when he was this close to shifting.

No one but his mate.

“Hey, Bowman,” Kenzie said, letting her voice drawl in a sultry way. “You seeing someone else now? I’m going to get jealous.”

CHAPTER TWO

Kenzie, her arm still around Bowman, pinned the pseudo-groupie with a stare that she hoped showed a hint of feral red.

The woman backed a step under their collective gazes, and Bowman, thank the Goddess, released the woman’s wrist. Kenzie remained draped over him, pretending not to feel every bit of tension in his body that told her he did not want her there.

The woman opened her mouth to deliver a final word. Her wolf ears had slid back on her head, and her makeup was running with her sweat. But she apparently thought better of speaking, and turned and walked hurriedly away. Her fake wolf tail waved as she went.

As soon as she disappeared back into the roadhouse, Bowman spun around. He did it so fast, Kenzie didn’t have time to let go of him.

She found herself holding six-feet-eight of enraged Shifter. Bowman’s body was tight, his gray eyes almost white with the suppressed change. The wolf in him was furious and wanted to hunt, to bring down and tear apart prey.

With any other Lupine, Kenzie might laugh and suggest he needed a beer—she’d buy. But Bowman wasn’t going to calm down. While Kenzie didn’t blame him—that woman was up to no good and might be dangerous—he had to stand down, or he might do something that would get them all into trouble.

Only one thing could soothe a wolf as dominant as Bowman. The touch of a mate.

Kenzie ran her hands over Bowman’s shoulders, the tension in him incredible. He didn’t want to calm down. He wanted a run.

Well, he could do that, but not right now. Other people were coming out of the roadhouse, paying no attention to them in the darkness. Some got into trucks and cars to drive home or on to the next bar; others lingered to talk and laugh. Bowman was too close to wild not to try to turn one of them into prey.

Bowman glared at Kenzie, but she didn’t ease off. She skimmed her hands down his hard chest, feeling his heart beating crazily, his skin hot under his shirt. His growls continued to rumble—if anything, growing louder.

She kept up her massage, moving her hands in circles on his chest, pressing her body against his. He was incredibly warm in the January cold, his mating heat starting to take over the killing need.

Bowman seized her wrists in a grip that would have hurt anyone else. “Kenzie, you need to stop.”

Kenzie flattened herself against him. She felt him with her whole body now, his heartbeat against hers, his breath on her skin, the hardness of his entire body.

“Not until you can walk inside without throwing people all over the tables.”

Bowman’s growl rumbled. “I don’t like anyone watching my Shifters.”

“I get that. But she’s gone.”

“People like that always come back.”

“I know.”

If he’d been anyone else, Kenzie might be tempted to get up in his face, wag her finger at him, bean him with sarcasm or bitchy words, but she knew better than to try it with Bowman. She knew him, and what he’d respond to.

Bowman’s eyes at least had lost their spark of killing rage. Another spark flared in him, though, and Kenzie knew she was in trouble. Not that she minded. It had been a while. Too long.

Bowman’s grip on her wrists tightened, his growl returning, but softer now, with a different note. Kenzie responded with a low growl of her own.