“It has already been decided, and you know the reason why Maarten and I are to go off together. That hasn’t changed,” Ryder pointed out. “If anything, it’s even more important to do it that way now.”

  Bon didn’t look happy, and he fired off several texts. Maarten waited with Ryder until Bon finally told them to go ahead, but stick to the area mapped out for them. After ensuring they had the right area once more, they headed east.

  Maarten had thought New Mexico would be all sand and cacti, but he was surprised to see splashes of colour on the ground. Purple flowers on pale green stems, yellow buds that reminded him of the sun at its brightest and coral petals welcoming the morning dew. It was beautiful, and he had to concentrate to keep from being distracted by his surroundings.

  At first, he didn’t feel like they were being watched as they began their pattern. After an hour, when they stopped to drink, Maarten’s skin prickled with awareness and his neck itched in back like something was tickling it.

  “He’s watching.”

  “Yes, he is,” Ryder agreed. “Keep acting like we don’t have a clue.”

  Maarten took a long drink, sipping more than anything else, lifting the canteen high and using it as an excuse to cut his eyes in a different direction. Ryder did the same, but neither of them saw anything out of place.

  “Has to be watching with binoculars, or a scope.” Maarten tried not to shudder. He’d heard plenty about how many people had guns in the United States, and shifter or no, neither he nor Ryder would survive a bullet to the head or through the heart.

  “That’d be too easy. I hope. He wants to hurt Marcus, too, and it’s not like anyone would have cause to believe Marcus and I are close. We’re not. He’s a good man and all, but we just don’t know each other.”

  Friendships took time, unless they happened in that blink-of-an-eye, laugh-till-youwanted-to-puke instant. That was Maarten’s experience, anyway. His closest friends had been killed almost immediately after Luuk had gone on the run to survive. Almost four years later, and Maarten could still remember the joy of those last friendships, the times he’d been part of a group of people who’d only wanted to have fun, who cared for each other just because they did. No family ties, nothing but compatibility and fondness binding them all.

  It still hurt, every day, every time he thought of those laughing voices silenced. Maarten hadn’t been able to bring himself to go to a pub once he’d been able, or to watch any of his favourite sports teams since the loss of his friends. It wouldn’t have been the same, sitting alone in a bar, and cheering for any team—just, no. He’d more likely break into a sobbing heap if he tried.

  Maarten couldn’t say what happened, but one second he was drinking, and the next alarm bells went off in his head. He leapt to the side, or tried to. Something slammed into his shoulder, knocking him to the ground.

  “Maarten!” Ryder shouted loud enough that Maarten could hear him around the ringing in his ears. An odd numbness was spreading out from his shoulder.

  “Fuck! Maarten, Maarten, talk to me,” Ryder pleaded as he rolled Maarten onto his side. He’d landed face down, and hadn’t even realised it. “Maarten!”

  Maarten grunted as that numbness gave way to intense pain, which quickly turned into an agonising thing that was trying to envelop his entire body. He screamed, losing track of Ryder and his surroundings. All he knew was the burning that was consuming him.

  * * * *

  Never had Ryder felt so much terror as he watched Maarten fall. There’d been a whistling sound, then the soft thud of an impact as the projectile had hit Maarten. Maarten had hit the ground before Ryder could catch him. He’d seen blood spread out instantly from the hole above Maarten’s shoulder blade. A bullet, just as Maarten had feared, only Ryder hadn’t been the target.

  Ryder shouted at Maarten, trying to get him to focus, to feel Ryder’s presence, but Maarten’s mind was a chaotic mess, his face alternating from pale to flushed as his eyes began to roll back.

  “No, no, you don’t,” Ryder mumbled. He didn’t know what to do, what to— “Maarten, stay with me. You will stay with me, goddamn it!” He envisioned delving as deeply into Maarten’s mind as possible and shoved his thoughts that way. How the mental bond worked, he didn’t have a clue, he only hoped that it did.

  Meanwhile, he dialled the number he had for Marcus, and when the ringing stopped, Ryder didn’t even give the man a chance to speak. “Help me, Maarten’s been shot, he’s—” No, he couldn’t say that.

  “Keegan will be there with Shania in a few minutes, I promise. We have you on screen. I know where you are. Stay calm, Ryder. Stay calm, because Maarten needs you to. Pull up that core of strength I know you have inside of yourself, and use it. Use it now, when you need it most, when Maarten needs it most.”

  Ryder listened and reached inside himself, seeking the place where he felt the power welling from. “Maarten, don’t leave me. Don’t.” He understood how Nathan and Marcus could say they wouldn’t exist without one another. Ryder wasn’t there yet with Maarten, but the very thought of not having him caused a greater pain than Ryder had ever thought he could feel and still survive. He pushed aside his own suffering and reached instead for Maarten’s, trying to find a way to carry some it for his mate so it didn’t drag Maarten away from him.

  The burning at the point of entry was agonising, suspiciously so. It hurt more than the rest of the wound. Ryder concentrated on soothing Maarten and was relieved to see that the blood wasn’t flowing from the opening now. He thought that was a good thing. He hoped it was.

  “How is he?” Ryder ignored Bon and the other guards who’d arrived. He didn’t miss the sound of an engine, though. That was salvation. Maarten was hanging on for him, shivering so hard his teeth chattered. He began to convulse, and utter chaos exploded into Ryder’s mind, the overflow of Maarten’s brain going into crisis mode.

  “Let me by,” Shania snapped. Ryder couldn’t for the life of him move, so locked into his mate’s psyche that he was shaking violently.

  “This is more than a gunshot wound,” he heard before Maarten cried out, piercing Ryder’s heart with fear.

  “Ryder!” A hard slap to his cheek registered, and it ached in a way that made Ryder think he hadn’t noticed prior hits. “Pull back. I can’t work on him with you seizing up too.”

  Ryder would do anything to help Maarten. Pulling back wasn’t easy. He wanted to stay there, his mind nestled with Maarten’s, trying to help him fight through the confusion and panic that was racking Maarten.

  “Ryder!”

  The slap that accompanied his name that time was almost forceful enough to knock him out. Ryder fell back, gasping as his entire jaw flared with pain.

  “Sorry, man,” Keegan said, kneeling beside him, concern in his brown eyes. “I really am, Ryder, but Shania needs to see what is wrong with Maarten. That isn’t from a bullet, or not just.”

  Ryder rubbed his jaw and hissed. All of his skin on the left side of his face was hot and almost raw.

  “Yeah, it took about a half dozen slaps. Sorry.”

  Ryder didn’t care. “Maarten,” he whispered as Maarten’s body bowed and spasmed. “What’s happening to him?”

  Keegan shook his head. “I don’t know. The only poison I know of wouldn’t do this, it’d eat him from the inside out.”

  That was a horror Ryder didn’t need to think about.

  “He’d have already been dead from it,” Keegan added. “I’m sure there are other things, obviously, but I don’t know what they are. We aren’t immune to every toxin except one.”

  Shania was murmuring to Maarten, checking his back and trying to take his pulse. “Keegan, Ryder, hold him down. I’m going to have to sedate him.”

  “But you don’t know what he’s reacting to,” Ryder said. “What if it…it makes him worse?”

  Shania took an ampoule and syringe from her bag while Keegan put his weight on Maarten’s legs. “The way he’s seizing, he will definitely be terminally worse if I can’t get him to stop.”

  Seeing no other options, Ryder did as Shania asked. It took another two guards to help them before she could slide the needle into Maarten’s vein. He went still so fast, Ryder thought for certain he’d lost him. Frantically pushing into Maarten’s mind, he found a faint hint of thought and feeling.

  “Let’s get him back home, now,” Shania snapped.

  “You can give him the pill,” Ryder said, grabbing her wrist. “Shania, you can—”

  “Hush,” she hissed. “I will if I can, but not knowing what he’s been exposed to—”

  “Bullshit. You gave him the sedative,” Ryder growled as he glared at the doctor. Shania ignored him and ran for the stretcher.

  Ryder was on the phone with Marcus before Shania had even reached her vehicle.

  “I want the pill you had for Maarten,” Ryder snapped. “Fuck Shania and her opinion, I saw what it’s done for you!”

  “Calm down, Ryder. Let me talk to her when she gets back and see what she has to say.”

  Ryder wanted to scream at the calm tone Marcus used. He couldn’t match it. “There’s no reason not to give it to him! He’s mine, Marcus. I won’t let him go!”

  “I won’t let you lose him.”

  For some reason, that calmed him. Ryder hung up and took a deep breath, then he helped get Maarten on the stretcher and carry him to the SUV. The FJ Cruiser was crowded, but it’d been modified for use as an ambulance for the shifters and Maarten was secured into the elongated cargo space.

  “I’m going to start an IV and try to flush out whatever’s in his system.”

  Ryder stayed out of the way as Shania did her thing. He sat beside Maarten and touched him, unnerved by the stillness of his mind and body.

  “He’s going into shock,” Shania muttered. “Damn it to hell. Breathing is shallow, blood pressure’s dropping.”

  Another shifter was assisting Shania. Ryder couldn’t let fear overtake him. He closed his eyes and focused on the place within him, then he reached for Maarten mentally. Ryder didn’t make demands. He just filled Maarten’s minds with thoughts of what their life together might be like. Ryder wanted kids, something he’d never even given thought to, but the idea of tow-headed boys and girls that would grow to look like Maarten was enchanting.

  “We’re going to move him again now, Ryder.”

  Ryder was still angry at Shania for her initial rebuff about treating Maarten with the same medicine she’d used on Marcus, but he trusted Marcus to straighten it out. Ryder opened his eyes and helped get Maarten out. Marcus and Nathan were there and insisted on helping as well, and together they moved Maarten to the medical centre in the building.

  “It’s more than just a gunshot wound,” Shania began by way of explanation.

  “And you refused to treat him with the one thing that should help him—why?” Marcus asked.

  Shania huffed as she adjusted the IV. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t, I just wanted to check him over first. Something unknown is in his system. I took a chance giving him the sedative to stop the seizures—”

  “Seizures?” Nathan snapped. “What the fuck was making him have seizures? Datura never did that. It just killed you.”

  “Datura?” Ryder asked, feeling sick to his stomach. Shania was preparing another shot. “And what is that you’re fixing to give him?”

  Shania held up the syringe. “He’s in shock, and his blood pressure is too low. If I don’t do something—”

  “Give him the pill,” Marcus said firmly. “Dissolve it, inject it, just fucking give it to him unless you want to risk an all-out war with the European Alpha Anax because we killed his brother.”

  Shania blanched and waved the shot in the air. “I can do both. This should hold him until I can dissolve the pill. I just needed time to get him stable enough to do that in the first damn place!”

  Marcus looked at Ryder. Ryder nodded. “Do it before…before he—” Ryder broke off on a sob.

  “No, don’t let him.” Marcus framed Ryder’s face with big, rough hands, and put his forehead to Ryder’s. “Refuse to let him go. Bind him to you. See it, your spirit tangling with his. Wind it around his, sink your claws into him, let your visceral drive take over. Do it, Ryder.”

  Ryder couldn’t look away from Marcus’ almost black eyes as he followed Marcus’ orders. He knew he had this power in him, but he hadn’t understood exactly how to utilise it despite his earlier efforts. Marcus made it so clear, and Ryder would have sworn he could feel Marcus imparting strength into him. He flowed into Maarten again, this time feeling as if he were melting into him.

  Maarten was cold on the spiritual plane, as Ryder decided to think of it. Cold and frightened, and dangerously close to being lost to him forever. Ryder’s eyes lost focus, his vision turning inward to the ties between him and his mate. Nothing mattered but being there with Maarten, cradling him in warmth and security, soothing him and binding him to Ryder in an elemental way he knew would never be undone.

  He didn’t know how long he stood with Marcus, but eventually he became aware of being moved. Hands were on him, guiding, lifting, then he was lying beside Maarten, stroking his smooth skin. Maarten was on his side, his eyes closed, his face so pale he was almost the same colour as the sheets. There wasn’t even a flicker of his eyelids to show that he was sleeping, rather than comatose, but Ryder knew Maarten was in there, holding onto him tightly.

  “I’m going to call his brother, Luuk, and Nathan will be bringing Harley in here.” Marcus touched his forehead and there it was again, that strength boring into Ryder. “Shania gave Maarten an injection with the diluted capsule. It will help him.”

  It has to, Ryder thought. He lay beside Maarten, caressing, soothing, sharing himself. Maarten’s breathing never changed, staying slow, almost too slow, and his thoughts never became cohesive, only flitting about like wisps of string on a breeze.

  Ryder stayed beside Maarten as Harley came in with Val. He didn’t acknowledge his brother or Val, his focus on Maarten instead, afraid if he left off at all, Maarten would leave him. Ryder would stay right there, locked into his mate. Maarten had promised to go with Ryder wherever he went, and now, Ryder would do the same for Maarten.

  Chapter Ten

  “It doesn’t fit if Maarten was deliberately targeted,” Marcus said as he strode across the living room floor again. Nathan sat on the couch, chewing on one of his thumbnails. “If it was someone out to hurt me, why Maarten? True, it could start trouble with Luuk, but I doubt it would. Luuk would be angry, he’d be hurt, but he wouldn’t try to kill me. He understands the insanity that can drive an enemy. But how would some newly-ish made shifter who has never known true pack life or our politics even know who Maarten was?”

  “Maybe it’s not you he’s after. Maybe it’s Ryder.” Marcus stopped and considered it for a moment before shaking his head. “No, the challenge was issued to me, not to Ryder. Little Joe wasn’t killed to hurt Ryder, who didn’t even know him. That was aimed at me as surely as that bullet was aimed at Maarten.”

  “Right, okay.” Nathan went back to biting at his thumbnail, a habit he had only recently developed. Marcus had chided him about it once, exactly, and had considered himself lucky to have retained his balls. “Okay, so if it’s someone after you, explain to me the logic behind shooting Maarten. Obviously the shooter planned to hit someone. That bullet Shania pulled out had some residue inside of it that she couldn’t figure out. Some kind of poison that seems resistant to the strongest medicine we have.”

  “I don’t know,” Marcus admitted reluctantly, and not without a lot of disgust. “I can’t figure it out. It doesn’t make sense. If it’s the escaped shifter from Drake’s pack, then he shouldn’t know about our rules, at least not according to the former members of Drake’s pack. But maybe he’s aiming for Ryder too. If he knows of Ryder, and suspects he had anything to do with bringing Drake to justice… But it doesn’t feel right.”

  “No, it doesn’t.” Nathan looked at his thumb and scowled. “Why do you let me continue with this nasty habit?”

  “Because you threatened to remove my nuts if I nagged you about it, remember?” Marcus asked, almost smiling. He loved his feisty mate.

  “Whatever.” Nathan stood and walked over to the window. “Maybe we’re wrong. Maybe this has nothing to do with Drake after all. There could be some Dobsons still left that we didn’t know of, or more fucking nuts like them.”

  Marcus hoped not in both cases. Before Nathan and he had met, Joshua Dobson had abducted Marcus and tortured him for six months before Nathan had stumbled upon him. They’d only just ended that sick bastard’s life in the last couple of years. “I need to check in with Keegan and see if he’s had the shifters Drake made questioned yet.”

  “And he should have a report from Bon, though obviously nothing was found, otherwise we’d have been alerted.” Nathan turned around and came to him. “We’ll get through this.”

  “We will. It’s just that every time before, we’ve known who our enemies were.” Marcus traced the fine lines of Nathan’s eyebrows. “It’s the not knowing who it is that makes it worse.”

  “That, and the unknown poison.” Nathan leaned against him and held onto him. “The datura was bad enough. It can kill us painfully. We really need to find out more about what things can harm us.”

  “We do.” Marcus let himself relax in Nathan’s arms for a little while, then he reluctantly stepped back when his phone began to play Keegan’s ringtone. “Perhaps there’ll be something helpful.” He tapped the screen as soon as he got the phone out of his pocket. “Keegan. What do you have for me?”

  “A sketch.”

  “Get in here,” Marcus snapped. He hung up the phone. “You heard, then.”