If she'd known what was going on in the woods not far from her house, her sleep might not have been as smooth.
* * *
Riley had come down to talk to Mercy and found Eduardo and Joaquin. This time, he wasn't in a walking-away frame of mind. Stepping out behind the men as they left Mercy's cabin, he waited for them to turn.
They did, faces predator-sharp. These two were sentinels, strong and well trained. But they didn't have violent possessiveness running through their veins. "I thought she told you to get lost."
It was Eduardo who answered. "Leopard females that dominant don't take well to males who do exactly what they say. But you wouldn't know that, wolf."
"I know her far better than either of you ever will." He watched their eyes, waiting for an aggressive move.
"She doesn't carry your mark in her skin," Joaquin said, and it was obvious from his tone that he wasn't ready to leave the field.
"And I bet she hasn't let you lay a hand on her." Her knew Mercy. She was easy with skin privileges in the pack, but she zealously guarded her privacy outside it.
Joaquin smiled. "Her skin is soft, creamy."
It was a taunt meant to make Riley's wolf see red and it succeeded, but he was also a lieutenant honed in fire. He narrowed his eyes. "Me and you. Eduardo stays out of it."
"Done." Joaquin's claws slid out. "I win, you walk away."
"Never going to happen." He released his own claws, slicing them through skin with the thoughtless ease of someone who'd grown up semishifting.
"Hold it," Eduardo said, scowling. "What the f**k are you doing, Joaquin? We didn't come here to mess up DarkRiver's pact with the wolves."
Riley waved him off. "I give you my word this won't impact things politically."
Eduardo raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? Then go for it. I can't wait to see how you explain this to Mercy."
Riley was no longer thinking. Joaquin had moved a bare fraction of an inch, but Riley knew it was in preparation for a strike. He was proven right an instant later as the South American sentinel came at him in a rage of claws and speed. Joaquin was good, Riley thought, moving out of the way even as he used his own claws to shred the other man's sides.
There was no blood, though Joaquin's shirt was in tatters. The sentinel had twisted away in a fluid move no wolf would ever make. But a wolf could utilize that fluidity against his prey. He went as if to strike, Joaquin shifted left . . . and Riley struck up with his free hand.
"Fuck." Joaquin hissed out a breath as his blood scented the air. "Lucky hit."
Riley didn't speak, watching. But he wasn't quite fast enough to evade the kick that almost dislocated his shoulder. Moving with the kick, he grabbed Joaquin's foot and twisted. Bones would've snapped in a human. But they weren't human. The other man landed on his feet, but his balance was slightly off. Riley had damaged something.
Not allowing his opponent to regain control, he attacked, his driving possessiveness giving him an edge even Joaquin's feline grace couldn't counteract. Slamming his claws to within a breath of the leopard's throat, he gritted out the words, "Be on the next plane out of here or I won't stop next time."
Joaquin's aggression was a golden glow in his eyes. "You're faster than you look."
Taking that as acceptance, Riley drew back.
Joaquin straightened, wiping blood off his lips. "Good luck." He held out a hand.
Unsurprised, Riley shook it. Changelings stuck to their word - it was part of the code of honor that kept peace among their kind. "Make sure your alpha doesn't send replacements."
Joaquin rubbed his jaw. "That, I can't promise. Isabella is a law unto herself."
"Then tell her that anyone else she sends up," Riley said quietly, "I'll be sending back minus body parts."
Eduardo grinned. "That, she'll understand. You sure you want to mess with Isabella?"
"If she's Mercy's grandmother, I'll have to deal with her eventually." He nodded once as the two men headed off. Part of him wanted to follow to make sure they truly were leaving, but the other part wanted desperately to see Mercy, to drive his scent into her skin so no other male would dare what Joaquin had. The field was not clear.
Trusting the honor of the two sentinels, he walked left, to Mercy. He was on her doorstep when he realized he was bruised and bloody. One look and she'd know exactly what he'd been doing. He didn't care. Raising a fist, he knocked.
The door was pulled open a few moments later by a sleepy-eyed cat dressed in an old T-shirt. Those eyes widened when she saw him, but he kissed her before she could say a word, clasping the back of her head to keep her in place as he fed his need for her. He was expecting to feel her claws any instant, but it was her hands he felt, under the torn fabric of his T-shirt. Shuddering when she flattened her hands on his back, he deepened the kiss until it was a melding of mouths, raw and hot and honest.
That was when her claws pricked him, hard enough that he knew he'd have bruises. Breaking the kiss, he looked down into eyes gone leopard in anger, though her lips were soft, full, so tempting.
"Riley Kincaid, you have Joaquin's blood on you." Her nostrils flared. "Dead or alive?"
"Alive." He winced as her claws dug deeper.
"I told you to stay away from them."
"I'm not a pet dog," he growled, closing his hand around her throat. "Don't try and leash me, kitty cat."
Those golden cat eyes shimmered with the sharp bite of feminine anger. "Get your hand off my neck."
Leaning in close, he breathed his next words against her lips. "Make me."