Page 11 of Tempest

His stomach churned, his blood heating with outrage.

There wasn’t another shifter’s scent on him, but that wasn’t uncommon for birds and prey animals that didn’t exchange bonding bites. The magic of the bite mixed mates’ scents, but it wasn’t an urge all shifters had. It was mostly just canines and felines, their predator instincts more heightened than other species.

Depending on how long the eagle had been flying and what had happened to him before he came into the territory, the lingering scent of a mate could have been washed off.

His panther didn’t care.

It yowled inside of him, refusing to accept the idea that there could be another that the eagle would choose over him.

He knew what this feeling meant, and while it made his heart soar, he couldn’t forget the agony fated mates had brought his family before. He needed to protect himself from experiencing that pain again since it was very likely the eagle would be leaving shortly, no matter what his reaction to him was.

There was no point in him trying to convince him to stay. There definitely wasn’t a reason to work on wrapping his head around the idea that maybe his mating could be different than his parents. And he certainly saw no point in begging his alpha to make an exception to the law.

It didn’t matter. Protecting the pack was what mattered.

That was his job, his purpose.

He dismissed the way Pops was grinning at him behind the bird’s shoulder, his scent full of amusement. Clearing his throat, Cash stepped into the house and closed the door behind him.

“Grandson,” Pops called. “I’d like you to meet Ore.”

He nodded at the bird but kept his distance, ignoring the way his panther happily rumbled at the sight of him in Cash’s T-shirt. It was so big on him he was swimming in it. He had a feeling Ore wouldn’t even reach his pecs when he was standing, and he had to fight back a shiver at the image.

“Hi,” Ore said, voice soft and a little shy. His olive skin flushed a gorgeous red on his high cheekbones, his gaze darting away for a second before coming back.

Cash nodded and looked at his grandfather, eyebrows raised in question.

Pops rolled his eyes and pushed to his feet using his cane. Cash had to stop himself from stepping forward to help, knowing it would only annoy Pops, and he’d be just as likely to whack him with the cane than to accept the help.

“Ore, this stoic young man is my grandson, Cash.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Ore said, climbing to his feet as well.

Cash bit back a groan. He’d been right. The man was so fucking tiny Cash’s shirt hung down to his knees, mixing their scents in a way that pleased him. He’d known it would. It was why he hadn’t asked anyone in the pack for something that would fit the younger man better. He’d simply cleaned him up as best he could after Fern and Pops had finished working on him and then slipped an old shirt on him. It was the softest he owned—the urge to pamper and care for the little bird had been so strong he hadn’t been able to resist.

“How are you feeling?” Cash asked, his voice huskier than normal.

“Pretty good,” Ore said, his slim fingers playing with the material of Cash’s shirt. “Kind of achy in my joints,” he added softly, eyes downcast.

Cash wasn’t sure if he was embarrassed about having been injured or admitting to some sort of weakness, but it didn’t sit right with him. He took a step forward before he could stop himself. “Understandable. You’re lucky to be alive.”

Ore’s eyes darted back up. “Am I? Pops didn’t really say what had happened, and everything is a blank.”

Cash glanced at Pops.

“Amnesia isn’t… uncommon with certain types of injuries,” Pops said carefully. Having been raised by the man most of his life, Cash recognized the tone. His grandfather was a spectacular veterinarian and healer, but he didn’t know why Ore didn’t remember what had happened and was surprised—and worried—by it.

The eagle’s scent didn’t say he was lying, but Cash knew from personal experience shifters could learn to suppress their scent to protect themselves or to hide their intentions. He didn’t know Ore that well, hadn’t learned the nuances of his heartbeat and scent, so it was possible he was making it up.

Though his panther grumbled at him at the harsh insinuation against the man he was convinced was their mate.

He reminded himself for the hundredth time that it didn’t change anything.

“We should go talk to Alpha Amato,” Cash said, running a hand over his short hair. “I let him know you were awake, so he’s waiting for us.”

“Oh yes, of course,” Ore said. “That makes sense. Let me just go—” He looked down at himself and grimaced, his cute little nose scrunching. “Never mind. I don’t have anything to change into.”

“I’ll ask around,” Pops said, smiling gently at him. “I’m sure someone has something that’ll fit you a little better.”

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