at Maria, innocence in his dark eyes. “Maria, does that mean you’re mates?”
Chapter Seven
The room went still. Maria watched Sean and Dylan fix their blue gazes on Ellison, waiting for him to respond.
Ellison went as quiet as they did. He was the outsider here, on their territory. He contrasted the Morrisseys with his gray eyes and light-colored hair, his taller body more rangy than the broader-shouldered Felines. He’d resumed his shirt, black cotton stretching over the torso that had been warm and bare in the May sunshine.
The two Felines wanted Ellison to answer, to tell them exactly what he’d been doing with Maria, the woman who was under their protection. The friendly ease in the room changed in an instant to threat and the threatened.
Maria had gone through too many tense situations between Shifters to stay calm about this one. She’d seen Miguel face off often enough against one of his lesser Shifters, looking at him the same way Dylan looked at Ellison now. Then had come violence, more fear.
She stepped in front of Ellison and bravely faced Dylan. “If I decide to kiss Ellison, it’s my business.”
Dylan looked past her to Ellison. “Are you making a mate-claim then?”
“I wouldn’t have accepted if he had,” Maria said, raising her chin. She’d decided once she’d climbed out of that basement that she’d never let anyone talk over her again. “It’s only kissing.”
“Maria.” Ellison’s voice was low and warning.
“I don’t care. You all say it is the woman’s choice to accept a mate-claim, and then you talk like it’s decided for me. I’m not mating anyone.”
“Maria,” Ellison said again. He put a broad hand on her shoulder. “It’s all right. I’m not in their pack. I’m not about to let them bully me.”
“Pride,” Sean corrected. “Felines have prides. Lupines have packs.”
“Well, no shit,” Ellison said, his drawl broad.
“That was for Maria’s benefit.” Sean gave her a half smile, but Maria’s heart still pounded with the unspoken threats. “I like that she’s choosy. Makes good sense.”
Dylan alone remained silent. He was a hundred years older than the others, which made him more careful.
His gaze was for Maria now, not Ellison. Dylan had looked Maria over when she’d first been rescued, when she’d stood on a hot, dry airstrip in Mexico, understanding that she was to go away with more Shifters. Dylan’s gaze had been calm, holding the weight of ages. He’d not looked at Maria in hunger, as Luis and Miguel and his Shifters had, but in watchfulness.
Now Dylan’s watchfulness returned. But there was something new in his eyes—concern for Maria, and also respect.
She saw the same in Sean. The Morrisseys had watched Maria like the overbearing father and older brothers she no longer had. She was grateful to them for it, but she would not let them browbeat her.
“Are we going to go talk to this Pablo?” she asked.
She felt Ellison tense behind her, his hand still on her shoulder. Dylan, Maria knew, would not get one step closer to her, and neither would Sean.
Dylan looked from Maria to Ellison and back to Maria again. “Yes,” Dylan said, giving her a quiet nod. “Sean, fetch Spike, and we’ll go.”
***
Ellison’s warmth felt fine on Maria’s left side as he drove her in his big black pickup the short journey to speak to Mr. Marquez. Maria sat between Ellison and Spike, Spike’s tattooed bulk squeezed into the cab with them. Dylan’s small white pickup followed with Dylan and Sean and the Sword of the Guardian.
Spike bulged with muscle, his entire body covered with tatts, and he kept his head shaved. In the last six or so months, Spike had relaxed, changing from a man who lived for nothing but fighting to one who had more to love. Discovering he had a four-year-old cub, and finding his mate, Myka, had softened the Feline who’d once been hard as granite.
Ellison drove them to a warehouse district and a large mechanic shop housed in one of the older warehouses. When the two pickups pulled up, Spike and Ellison emerging from one truck, Sean and Dylan from the other, the guys working on cars stopped and slowly straightened. Gazes followed the four Shifters and Maria, with Sean’s sword obvious on his back, as they moved toward the entrance.
The man called Pablo Marquez had an office in the back of the warehouse, shut away from the noise of the men working on cars. Pablo had dark hair and eyes, Latino coloring, wore a business suit, and rose smoothly when