Wildfire Shifters: Collection 1

by Zoe Chant

  Fenrir rumbled again, showing a hint of fang.

  “You are a shifter,” Rory said firmly. “No matter what you think.”

  Edith looked from one to the other. “Wait, you can understand him?”

  “Yes, but not the way you think. Hellhounds talk to their pack members telepathically. We’re his pack, so we can hear him in our heads.” Rory rubbed the back of his neck, looking a little awkward. “In fact, the rest of us can talk to each other mind-to-mind too, since we’re all mythic shifters. Sorry.”

  Edith was confused. “Why are you apologizing?”

  Rory blew out his breath. “Because we’ve occasionally done it in your presence, to talk about things we couldn’t share with you. I know you felt excluded. I’m sorry for that.”

  “It was unconscionably rude of us,” agreed Wystan. “Please accept my sincere apologies, Edith.”

  “Mine too,” said Joe, his usual grin sliding away for once. “You’re our bro, Edith. We should have been straight with you from the start.”

  The others nodded as well. Even Fenrir hung his head, tail curling against his belly.

  Edith looked round at all their solemn, disconsolate faces. A giggle bubbled up, turning into a full-blown belly laugh. She toppled sideways, shaking with uncontrollable mirth.

  Now they were all staring at her as if she’d lost her mind. Understandably.

  “We broke her,” Callum said.

  “N-no,” she hiccupped out. “Can’t you see how funny it is? All this time, I thought it was me. I always miss things that everyone else finds obvious. But for once it’s not because I’m autistic!”

  She hadn’t meant to say it. The word had just slipped out, carried on her wave of giddy relief. Her laughter caught in her throat. She froze.

  Blaise started giggling. Joe joined in as well, with his loud, unrestrained whoop of exuberant joy. She found that she was smiling again too, though she wasn’t sure why.

  “Oh man.” Blaise wiped her eyes, shaking her head. “Is that what you’ve been hiding from us all this time? That must have been awful for you. And all along we were keeping our real selves secret too.”

  Callum’s mouth actually crooked up. She’d never seen him smile before. “Ironic.”

  A warm hand fell on her shoulder. She looked up at Rory’s profile. His eyes were on the rest of the squad, but his voice was pitched for her alone.

  “I told you that I needed someone whose quirks matched ours.” Heat seemed to flood out from his touch, filling her with fire. “You fit with us. We all know that. I hope that you do too.”

  Fenrir crept forward. Tentatively, he laid his head in her lap, as he’d done so many times. Out of sheer habit, she scratched behind his ears. His tail wagged.

  And just like that, it didn’t matter that his eyes were red flames, or that her leg instantly went numb from his weight. He was himself, and she was herself.

  And they were exactly as they should be.

  Rory’s hand tightened a little on her shoulder. When he spoke, though, it was to Wystan. “You haven’t told her your animal, Wys.”

  Edith shook her head, grateful for the distraction from the confusion of emotion welling within her. “By this point, I’m not going to be surprised if he turns out to be a unicorn.”

  “Ah.” Wystan grimaced. “Good.”

  Blaise and Joe exchanged a glance, and started laughing again, harder than ever.

  Edith stared at the paramedic. “You’re an actual unicorn?”

  Wystan rumpled his white-blond hair, looking embarrassed. “Somewhat. In a manner of speaking.”

  “You can’t be somewhat a unicorn,” Edith said blankly. “It’s a binary state. You’re either a unicorn or you aren’t.”

  “He’s a unicorn,” Callum said, casting a faintly disgusted look at Blaise and Joe, who’d now chortled themselves into incoherent heaps.

  Wystan sighed. “Yes, technically speaking I can turn into a unicorn. But if I was a real unicorn, Callum wouldn’t have a bandage on his head right now. My father and grandfather can heal people just with a touch of their horns, but I don’t have any powers myself. I’m just a very pretty horse with a pointy bit.”

  “That’s literally the dictionary definition of a unicorn,” Edith said. “I should know. When I was eleven, I collected every book about them that I could find, including academic theses. My bedroom was wallpapered with unicorn posters. My parents started getting concerned when I ran out of space and began pinning them to my ceiling. I was obsessed with unicorns.”

  “Not griffins?” Rory sounded a little crestfallen.

  “Bro.” Joe gave him a look. “No-eleven-year-old girl collects pin-ups of griffins.”

  “Actually, I did,” Blaise said. “But only because I had a thing for Ross.”

  Rory spluttered. “My twin? You had a crush on my twin?”

  Blaise shrugged. “He was always the bad boy in your family.”

  “What kind of creature are you, Blaise?” Edith asked her.

  The amusement slid off Blaise’s face. “It doesn’t matter. I’m like Fenrir, but the other way round. I never shift into my animal form.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t like to talk about it.” Blaise held up a hand, forestalling her as she opened her mouth. “I’m not mad or upset that you asked, but it’s a painful topic. The rest of the guys have learned not to bug me about it. I just ask that you do the same, okay?”

  On impulse, Edith pushed Fenrir’s head off her lap, getting up. Blaise shot her a startled look as she approached.

  “Okay.” Edith held out her hands. “But I’d really like to give you a hug right now, if that’s all right.”

  Blaise’s eyes widened. Not looking at all her usual badass self, she ducked her chin in a shy nod. Edith folded her arms around her, feeling her stiff uncertainty.

  “Thanks for being direct with me,” Edith whispered in her ear. “And if you ever do want to talk, I’m here.”

  Blaise’s hands came up. All the breath whooshed out of Edith’s lungs as the other woman hugged her back, fiercely.

  “Woohoo!” Joe lifted both fists into the air, nearly punching the ceiling. “Squad pile!”

  Edith squeaked as Joe swept both of them up in his enormous arms. Wystan squawked in protest as Joe seized him too, dragging him into the crush. Then Fenrir was there, thrusting his cold wet nose into their midst, his tail wagging madly. She even felt Callum’s hand briefly squeeze her own.

  Fenrir’s tail hit her thighs like a baseball bat. Their mingled scents swamped her, a heady perfume of animal fur and clean sweat and wildness. Bodies were packed so tightly against her she could barely tell where she stopped and they began. She couldn’t breathe.

  She’d never been so happy.

  Just as she thought her heart couldn’t get any more full, Rory’s arms enfolded her as well. Even in the chaos of the laughing, wrangling puppy-pile, she felt his touch as though no one else existed. She turned her head, meeting his deep, gentle eyes.

  He leaned his forehead against hers. “Welcome to the family,” he murmured, his breath whispering against her skin.

  Then he raised his voice. “All right, that’s enough! Let’s not crush her to death with sheer enthusiasm. And there are some things I need to discuss with Edith. Privately.”

  “Right.” Wystan extricated himself, straightening his rumpled shirt. “Joe, put Callum down. The man has a head injury.”

  “Good point.” Joe released them all at last. He winked at Edith. “In fact, don’t you think you’d better stay in our cabin tonight, Wys? To keep an eye on Cal, of course.”

  “I was just thinking that myself.” Wystan headed for his bedroom. “I’ll get my things.”

  Callum glowered. “I’m fine.”

  “Bro.” Joe’s arm fell heavily across Callum’s shoulders. He turned Cal to face Rory and herself. “You feel terrible. You’re seeing double. You probably have a concussion. You definitely need a trained paramedic to watch
over you tonight. Don’t you?”

  Callum paused. “Yes.”

  Blaise was already holding the door open for Fenrir. The squad streamed out. The room suddenly seemed a lot bigger…but not even remotely empty. Rory’s presence was enough to fill it from wall to wall.

  Even though he’d moved back to let the others pass, her body still held the memory of his warmth. She was abruptly, acutely aware that they were a) alone, and b) less than five steps away from his bed.

  Rory’s gaze flicked from her to the bedroom door, as though he’d just been struck by the same thought. He shifted his weight, clearing his throat. He looked almost…nervous.

  That was patently ridiculous, of course. He’d faced down the monstrous grizzly without even blinking. He could turn into a griffin. Why on earth would he look at her as though she had the power to rip him apart?

  “Let’s take a walk,” he said. “There’s still something I need to tell you.”

  Chapter 27

  It was the same, and yet totally different.

  Just like before—could it really have only been this afternoon?—they sat on the log overlooking the stream, not quite touching, the gentle murmur of the water whispering in the background. Just like before, Edith scooped up a handful of pebbles, pitching them one by one into the shallows. Just like before, she watched the water rather than his face as he spoke.

  But this time, he didn’t worry that he didn’t have her attention. He knew better now. The way she focused on the water, the way she rubbed each rough rock in little circles with her fingers, the way she tilted her head; they were all signs that she was listening, with her whole being.

  He found himself mimicking her, without really meaning to. He sat side-by-side with her, looking more at the water than her face as he talked. Though she barely said a word as he explained the attacks and the storm-creature and Buck’s plans for A-squad, he slowly began to understand her better.

  It was easier to talk when she was just in the corner of his eye. His words flowed more easily when he wasn’t scrutinizing her expression for every hint of reaction. Not to mention that it was easier to keep himself on topic when he wasn’t constantly getting lost in her beauty.

  “So that’s why I took off like that this evening.” He leaned his elbows on his knees, watching the crystal-clear water hurry past. He was exquisitely aware of the heat of her hip near his. “I had to stop that monster from starting a lightning fire here.”

  Plunk went one of Edith’s rocks into the stream. “Do you think Buck’s right? That it’s afraid of you?”

  “Well, it didn’t hang around when I went after it.” Rory shrugged one shoulder. “I didn’t even get close enough to get a good look at it through all that cloud. I think its main weapon is its lightning, and that’s too slow and inaccurate to hit me in mid-air. It flew around for a bit, as if it was trying to get past me, but when I turned back to come after you, it didn’t follow. Last I saw, it was headed for the horizon again.”

  Edith frowned, her forehead creasing. “It doesn’t sound like a real attack.”

  “That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking. I suspect it was just trying to keep me busy. Lure me away long enough for that bear to go after you.”

  The line between Edith’s eyebrows deepened. “It definitely wasn’t a normal bear. You’re sure it wasn’t a shifter?”

  “Pretty sure. It’s not totally accurate, but we can generally scent each other. And that hawk I caught earlier definitely wasn’t one of us. I think they’re animals that the storm-creature has corrupted, somehow. Turned into its minions.”

  Edith rolled a pebble between her palms, apparently giving it her full attention. He could almost hear her mind working furiously.

  “Maybe.” She sounded dubious. “But something doesn’t seem quite right to me.”

  He let out a snort of laughter. “You mean, apart from all the demonic wildlife trying to attack you?”

  She wrinkled her nose at him, her own lips twitching up. “I’m not saying that isn’t weird. And it certainly seems like the bear and the, the storm-thing were acting in concert today. But then there was the hare. It doesn’t fit. You didn’t see how terrified it was, how desperately it was searching for a way through the flames. Why would the storm-thing incinerate one of its own servants?”

  Rory shrugged again. “Collateral damage? Maybe it had been using the hare to spy on you, and wasn’t too bothered about it getting caught up in the attack. I mean, we’re talking about a monster that regularly sets fire to tens of thousands of acres of forest. I don’t think it has much of a conscience.”

  Edith made a noncommittal noise, looking unconvinced. She tossed her last pebble into the stream. Her hands fluttered for a moment as though in search of something to hold.

  Catching sight of him watching her, she flushed. Her hands stilled, flattening between her knees with what was clearly a deliberate effort. He’d noticed her do that before.

  “Why do you do that?” he asked, nodding at her hands.

  Her blush deepened. “Hand flapping? It’s a form of stimming, getting sensory feedback. It’s…natural, for a lot of people like me. Like facial expressions are for other people. I can’t really explain it any better than that.”

  “No.” He touched the back of her wrist, very lightly. “I mean, why do you make yourself stop?”

  Her fingers wound together. “It’s a dead giveaway. It’s inappropriate, and makes people uncomfortable. My teachers taught me how to control it. Quiet hands.”

  Her shoulders jerked a little on the last two words, as though they were an old, unhealed wound. He clenched his jaw against his instinctive protective fury.

  “I love your hands.” He took them in his own, resting her palms atop his. Her fingers trembled a little. “Beautiful hands. Dancing hands. Loud hands.”

  He opened his grasp, as though releasing a pair of birds. Shyly, hesitantly, her hands took flight. She let out a soft sigh, some of the tension draining out of her body. In the graceful flutters of her fingers, he could see her smile.

  She tilted her head, giving him one of those subtle sideways glances that never failed to make his heart stutter. “Rory. What are you stopping yourself from doing?”

  He realized own hands had clenched into fists, knuckles whitening. Edith might not stare, but she missed nothing.

  “Touching you,” he said, honestly.

  His breath hitched as she shifted a little closer. Her thigh nudged his. “Why don’t you?”

  “Because…because I still haven’t told you everything.” He closed his eyes, fighting for control. “You’re braver than I am, you know. You dared to bare your true self to me…and yet here I am, still hesitating because I’m scared of how you’ll react.”

  “Rory.” The warmth of her hand covered his, fingertips tracing delicious circles over his skin. “I’ve worked it out, you know. The bear and the other creatures…they were targeting me. But I’m no one special. Unless…unless maybe I am special. To one person. The one person that the lightning-thing can’t attack directly.”

  His heart was pounding so hard, he was sure she could hear it. “You’re right. This is going to sound horribly egotistical, but I think that creature is going after you as a way to get to me. Because if it captured you…there’s nothing, nothing I wouldn’t do or give to get you back. I’d let it burn down the state, if that kept you safe.”

  “Why?” she whispered.

  “Because you are special to me. More special than you can know.” He took a deep breath. “It’s a shifter thing. All shifters have a true mate, a perfect match. Just one person in all the world. And we know when we meet that person.”

  Her fingers stilled. “How?”

  He shook his head. He still had his eyes shut, not daring to look at her. “I can’t explain it. The animal in us just knows. It’s like a little voice in our heads whispering, yes, that one. And after that…there will never be anyone else for us. We’re completely fixed on our mate, forever.
No matter what.”

  “Oh.” Her voice was softer than the sound of the water over stones. “And I’m…?”

  “Yes. You’re my mate. I knew the moment I looked into your eyes.”

  Silence.

  Then she took her hand away.

  His heart seemed to disappear from his chest entirely. He felt as though he’d fallen through ice into a frozen lake. He couldn’t feel her warmth against his side anymore.

  “I know it sounds impossible,” he said hastily, grasping for words that might bring her back. “To fall in love in an instant like that. And maybe you think it’s unhealthy, to be so bound up in someone that you literally can’t live without them.“

  Her hands closed on the sides of his face, stopping his desperate babble. He opened his eyes at last, and discovered that she was standing over him, looking down. The full moon backlit her, hiding her own expression in shadow.

  “Rory.” Her thumb brushed his lips, silencing him. “That doesn’t seem strange to me. I know what it’s like, to be so wrapped up in one thing that it’s all you want, even when it seems stupid to everyone else.”

  She slid onto his lap, still holding his head. The warmth of her strong thighs shook him to the core of his soul. She pressed her forehead against his, lips almost touching his own.

  “I’ve always been told that sort of obsession is wrong,” she whispered. “But I never understood why. It’s stupid, how other people put limits on how much they let themselves love. I don’t.”

  Her hazel eyes filled his world. He looked into them, and saw her love shining back.

  Without restraint. Without limit.

  He closed that last gap between them, kissing her fiercely, not holding back anything. Everything he gave, she gave back, magnified and doubled. His need was hers; her joy was his.

  Her hands were everywhere—tangling in his hair, caressing his face, trailing fire down the side of his neck. He explored her with equal fervor, learning the sweep of her spine and the exquisite curve of her hips. All the time, he devoured her mouth, glorying in her heat, her softness, the boldness of her tongue against his own.