Iona looked a bit surprised that Eric only said good night and watched her walk into Jace’s empty bedroom, but she quickly closed the door behind her. And locked it.

A groan in the middle of the night woke Iona from a sound sleep.

Jace’s bedroom was the first one in the hall, with Eric’s bedroom, a narrow space that looked like a converted closet, next to it. Iona had seen, when she’d followed Cassidy to the bedroom she shared with Diego at the end of the hall, that Eric’s room held a bed and that was pretty much it.

The groan had come from Eric’s bedroom, through the wall separating Iona from him. A groan of pain.

Iona scrambled out of bed, the hem of her borrowed sleep shirt brushing her thighs. The clock on the nightstand—an old-fashioned folding travel clock, nothing digital—told her it was three thirty.

She stepped into the hall, surprised by how quiet the house was. No sound came from outside—no cars, trucks, motorcycles, or trains, and they were a long way from the airport. A faint breeze blew through the eaves, but that was it.

In the silence, Eric groaned again. She paused to see whether Cassidy or Diego would respond, but she heard no movement from their bedroom at the end of the hall. Either they were heavy sleepers or the fairly large bathroom between them and Eric’s room muffled the sound.

Iona walked softly to Eric’s door and opened it.

In the near darkness inside, her Shifter sight took in the bulk of Eric’s bed with him on top of it, his naked skin gleaming. The bedcovers lay in a pale heap on the floor beside the bed, where he’d thrown them off.

“Eric?” Iona whispered.

A stifled groan answered her. Iona quickly crossed the room to him and touched his shoulder.

She pulled back in alarm. Eric’s skin was burning and drenched in sweat. “Eric, are you all right?”

Eric’s hand closed on her wrist, fingers shaking but his grip strong. “No, I’m bloody well not all right.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Hell if I know.” His words cut off as a spasm wrenched his body. “I don’t know what the f**k this is.”

“Your Collar?” Iona touched it, finding the black and silver band cool, the Celtic knot at his throat quiet. “Is it malfunctioning?”

“Like I said, hell if I know.” Eric tried to rise but fell back to the pillow. “This is killing me.”

Iona rubbed his shoulder, wanting to do something, but she didn’t know what. “Let me take you to a hospital. I’ll get Cass.”

“No.” Eric grabbed her again as she started to straighten up. “A hospital won’t know what to do with me, and I don’t want to see knives or needles ever again.” He tugged at her. “Stay with me, Iona. Touch me. You’re already helping.”

Iona sat on the edge of the bed and put a tentative hand on his chest. His heart pounded beneath her fingertips, his skin roasting hot.

“Can you shift?” she asked. “Will that help?”

“I tried. Made it worse.”

Iona smoothed her hands across his hard chest, remembering how she’d enjoyed teasing his ni**les with her tongue. His ni**les were soft now, Eric nowhere near excited.

She drew her fingers down his abdomen, finding the smooth indentation of his navel. Farther down to his lower belly until she touched the c**k below it.

“Mmm,” Eric said. “Better.”

The sweat on his face and his rapid breathing didn’t convince her. “Are you sick? Shifter flu?”

Eric shook with silent laughter. “No such thing. I haven’t felt like this since…” He trailed off, his laughter dying.

Iona lifted her hand from the base of his cock, sensing he didn’t need sexual play right now. “Since when? Since your mate died?”

“No, that was different. This was later, when we first took the Collar.”

Eric closed his mouth abruptly, as though he didn’t want to talk about the Collar. Iona lightly rubbed his stomach. “Tell me about your wife. Mate, I mean. What was she like?”

Eric didn’t answer right away. He hesitated so long that Iona thought he wouldn’t answer at all, but then he spoke softly.

“Kirsten was—amazing. Hair like sunshine, but her eyes were black. She could run like nothing I’d ever seen before, and she didn’t take any shit from me.”

“What kind of cat was she?” Iona kept rubbing his abdomen, noting that his nearly frantic breathing had finally slowed.

“Leopard. Not a snow leopard like me and Cass, a gold and black one. Leopards are one of the smallest wildcats, even among Shifters, but they’re the most dominant. Kirsten had…personality. A lion Shifter was after her once, a huge guy, both in his human and wildcat form. She pretty much told him what to do with himself. That was fun to watch.”

“You loved her.”

“I did. With everything I had.” Eric stilled Iona’s hand with his large one. “Why do you want to know this?”

“It tells me what kind of person you are. And it’s making you feel better.”

Eric drew a breath and relaxed. Then, at the bottom of the breath, his body went rigid with pain, his hand closing hard on hers. “Son of a bitch.”

“Let me get Cassidy.”

Eric’s hold tightened. “Don’t leave me. Stay with me. Please.”

The grating cry wrenched Iona’s heart. She lifted their joined hands and kissed his fingers. “Keep telling me about Kirsten.”

“Can’t.” Eric’s teeth were clenched, eyes tightly closed. “She died. It hurt. It hurt so much.”

The grief in his voice was true. “Then tell me about Jace,” Iona said quickly. “He looks so much like you.”

“He puts up with a lot.” Eric tried to smile, lips barely moving. “It’s tough, being son of the leader.”

“Were you the son of a leader? Was your father leader?”

“Yeah, he was clan leader, but he passed right after Cassidy was born. I was too young to know him.”

“What about your mom?”

“Died soon after that. She never got over losing my dad, and she just gave up. It was me and Cass from then on.”

“I’m sorry,” Iona whispered. She imagined two young Shifters, alone, scared, unsure what to do. “Where did you live?”