Wildfire Shifters: Collection 1

by Zoe Chant

  He had a sinking feeling any attempt to dissuade her was as doomed as the Titanic, but he tried anyway. “There isn’t space in my cabin, Seven. There are only two rooms, and Callum already has dibs on the other one. Don’t worry. He’s a pegasus shifter, he’ll sense if anyone approaches.”

  Except Callum won’t, he thought with a twinge of unease. In his vision, Callum hadn’t sensed the ambush that the woman had laid for the squad…

  He shook his head, pushing the moment of doubt aside. That future couldn’t happen now. He was back with the squad. Even if they weren’t taking the threat seriously enough, he would.

  He’d keep them safe.

  “Go with Blaise,” he said to Seven. “It’s a small base. You’ll be close enough if anything happens.”

  Seven shot him an icy look. She turned to Callum. “I apologize for the inconvenience, but may I take the second room in the Prince’s cabin?”

  Callum nodded. He handed her something.

  “Er, thank you.” Seven looked down at the small plastic packet, then back up at the pegasus shifter. “What is this?”

  “Earplugs,” Callum said. “You’ll need them.”

  Chapter 10

  Seven soon discovered that Callum hadn’t been kidding about needing the earplugs.

  It wasn’t that the Prince snored.

  He screamed.

  Seven hadn’t been asleep, though she hadn’t really been awake either. Like many types of shark, Great Whites had to keep swimming to breathe, so they couldn’t sleep like most other animals. Instead, they slowed to a resting state, the body moving on autopilot while the mind was unconscious.

  Being able to emulate that trancelike blankness was one of the few useful traits from her inner animal. She’d been sitting upright with her eyes open and her brain switched off, her stunsword across her knees, when Joe’s cry yanked her to her feet.

  She was bursting into his room before her human mind had fully wrestled control back from her animal. Her stunsword flicked out, crackling with blue energy—but there was no one to fight.

  Joe twisted alone on his bed, tangled up in a white sheet, shoulders tense and shaking. Sweat gleamed on his mahogany skin.

  “No!” The word was a chord of utter agony. The musical notes of sea dragon speech ripped from his throat in a symphony of despair. “Seven, no! Run!”

  Seven drew in her breath, but tasted nothing except his salt-sea scent. No foreign presence, no threats. Her shark surged through her blood, near-frenzied by the Prince’s distress.

  “My prince.” She sheathed her stunsword, thrusting her inner animal back down at the same time. “You’re having a nightmare.”

  “Leave me,” he pleaded, still speaking his native language. His eyes flickered under tightly shut lids. “Seven, no, leave me, save yourself—Seven!”

  “Joe.” Hesitantly, she put a hand on his hot, slick shoulder. “Wake up, Joe.”

  His eyes opened at last. They looked up at her from the depths of hell.

  “Seven?” He twisted, surging upright. His hands came up, trying to push her away. “Seven, no, run-!”

  “Joe!” She grabbed his wrists. She pinned him to the bed, afraid that he might hurt himself in his confusion. “It’s just a dream. Wake up!”

  His eyes focused properly on hers at last. She was so close to him, she could feel his short, panicked breath against her own lips.

  “Seven?” he whispered, in English this time. His voice cracked and broke on her name. “You’re here? You’re safe?”

  “I’m fine. I’m right here.” She loosened her grip, relieved that he was finally awake. “Everything’s fine. You were just having a nightmare.”

  His dreams still haunted his eyes. He touched her face, tracing the line of her cheek. She could feel his fingers shaking. She was shaking too, trembling with the effort of controlling the desire roaring through her body.

  “I saw you die.” His fingers ran through her hair, tangling in her braids. “I always see you die. Oh, sea. I thought you were dead. Seven.”

  His hand tightened on the back of her neck. He pulled her down to his hungry, desperate mouth.

  Everything else vanished. He kissed her like he needed to devour her, like he needed to verify with every sense that she was really there.

  It was like the first time she’d ever stepped into the ocean. Her lips, her body, her entire soul opened to him, coming home to a place she’d never been before: Yes. Yes, this is what I was missing.

  He made a low, feral sound into her mouth, back arcing. His strong arms enfolded her like the waves, pulling her against him. She straddled him, only a few thin layers of cloth separating his body from hers. She could feel the hard planes of his chest, the tight buds of his nipples, the ridges of his clenched abs. Every part of him taut and perfect and hers.

  He was glorious. He was maddening. Every touch of skin against skin was a revelation. She needed more.

  “More,” she breathed, kissing him back, pressing herself against him, drunk on his scent. “More.”

  His tongue swept through her mouth, teasing and caressing. She tasted the sudden tang of blood.

  She jerked back, covering her mouth with both hands. “I’m sorry!”

  He looked dazed, eyes dark with desire. He touched his lip, then blinked at the crimson drop on his fingertip as though wondering where it had come from.

  “Stop.” His voice was hoarse, rough. “We have to stop.”

  She scrabbled back, keeping one hand firmly clamped over her mouth. She would have retreated all the way off the bed and out of the room—and ideally, out of the country and into the lightless depths of the sea—but he caught her wrist.

  “Hey.” He sat upright, sliding his legs out from underneath her. “It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  She shook her head, still hiding her treacherous teeth, utterly mortified. “I bit you.”

  “And I liked it.” He pulled more of the sheet onto his lap, grimacing. “Trust me, you don’t need to be embarrassed about an involuntary physical reaction. I think we’d both better take a moment to…calm down.”

  That was difficult, given that he was still mostly naked. Frustrated heat throbbed between her legs. Her teeth shifted further, sharpening into double rows of razor points.

  She jerked her eyes away from him, clenching her jaw. She tried to think of boring, human things. Vacuuming. Buying milk. Filling in tax returns.

  It didn’t help.

  “Seven.” Gently but irresistibly, he drew her hands down. He brushed his thumb across her tight-pressed lips. “They’re nothing to be ashamed of.”

  She looked away, ducking her head. “They’re ugly. Bestial.”

  “No, they aren’t. They’re part of you, like your animal. Why do you hide them?” A crease appeared between his eyebrows. “Actually, how do you hide them? I’ve never met a shark shifter who could completely pass for human.”

  “I’m not like other—” The hated word stuck in her throat. “I’m not like them.”

  “No.” He leaned back against the wall, regarding her intently. “No, you really aren’t. Seven, why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I thought you knew.”

  “Of course I didn’t know! What, you thought I just didn’t care that I was condemning you to spend months trapped in human form, unable to shift?” He raked a hand through his hair, looking around wildly as if he could make an ocean appear through sheer willpower. “I gotta talk to Buck. To my parents. We gotta work out some way of getting you to the sea every few weeks, otherwise you’re going to go stark raving nuts.”

  “I don’t need to shift that often. I’ll be fine.” She’d gone years without shifting, after all. She could manage a summer. “And if you didn’t know I was a shark, why did you say we couldn’t have a future together?”

  “Because you’re honorable and noble and perfect and everything I’m not!” He stared at her. “You seriously thought I was talking about politics?”

  �
��Of course I did! You’re the Emperor-in-Waiting! Our people are hereditary enemies, with millennia of bad blood between us. This would rock Atlantis to its very foundations. All the sea fear my kind. And for good reason.”

  “No,” he said firmly. “That’s blind prejudice. My godfather is the Master Shark, and he’s the wisest, gentlest man I’ve ever met. Sharks don’t deserve their bad reputation.”

  “Deserved or not, we do have a reputation. No sea dragon would accept a shark becoming a Princess of Atlantis. It would be an utter disaster for the whole Pearl Empire.”

  “I can’t think of anything better for the Pearl Empire. We’d finally have a chance of healing this stupid rivalry between sharks and sea dragons.” He caught his breath, pure delight spreading across his face. “Sea, just imagine our children. A future Pearl Emperor or Empress could be a shark.”

  He said it as though it wasn’t a curse. As though he couldn’t think of anything more marvelous than being a brutal, savage animal rather than an elegant, magical sea dragon.

  His utter astonishment earlier, his clear enthusiasm now—neither of them could be feigned.

  He really hadn’t known. He really didn’t care.

  The reason he didn’t want her—it wasn’t because she was a shark.

  Which meant…

  It could only be that he didn’t want her.

  Chapter 11

  He’d said something wrong, though he had no idea what.

  One moment, Seven’s eyes were wide and unguarded, her full lips slightly parted, no longer hiding those cute pointed teeth. The next moment, she’d retreated behind her armor again. Her expression froze into that familiar, blankly polite mask.

  “I see,” she said. She rose, giving him a stiff, formal bow. “My apologies for interrupting your rest, Your Highness. I shall not disturb you further.”

  “Seven. Seven.” He scrambled out of bed, nearly forgetting to grab the sheet in his haste to intercept her. “Hey. Stop. What’s wrong? What did I say?”

  She stopped in the doorway, her back to him. He could see her drawing herself up to her full height, shoulders setting.

  “You said nothing, my prince.” She didn’t turn around. “And if you do not mind, I would prefer to keep it that way. Some things I do not need to hear spoken out loud. May I be dismissed, please?”

  He should let her go. Whatever he’d done, however she’d misunderstood him, it was bad enough to drive her away. She’d put up a wall between them, shielding her heart.

  That was good. That was necessary. He had to let her go. For her own good.

  But she was hurting.

  He’d hurt her.

  “Seven.” He put a hand on her shoulder. She stiffened. “I’m sorry. Please talk to me. I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”

  She pulled away from him, turning around at last. Moonlight caught in her pale grey eyes, bright with unshed tears.

  “You don’t?” Her tone was scathing, but her lower lip trembled. “You don’t want me. You are my mate. And I am such a monster that even you don’t want me.”

  He stared at her. She was pale and furious and shaking, and so beautiful that she took his breath away.

  And she thought he didn’t want her?

  “What,” he managed to croak out at last.

  She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in through her nose. Her mouth firmed into a hard, tight line.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said quietly. “I understand. I am not…” Her hand fluttered, gesturing from her muscled shoulders to her narrow hips. “Not desirable.”

  “Sweet little fishes, are you serious?” He was genuinely tempted to drop the sheet and showing her the effect she was having on him at that exact second. “Seven, you do realize that I’m having a hard time talking right now because very little of my blood is making it to my brain, right? You are the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen. And trust me, that is not a short list.”

  She folded her arms across her small breasts. He remembered the feel of them crushed against his chest, her tight nipples pressing through her shirt, and had to adjust his grip on the sheet again.

  “Is that how you sweet-talk so many women into bed?” she spat. “Lie to them?”

  “No. I never lie.”

  She started to shape an angry retort—and stopped, a peculiar expression crossing her face. She looked at him as though she’d only just seen him.

  “No,” she said softly. “You don’t, do you? Not even when it would be easier. Why is that?”

  She saw him.

  A strange thrill, terror and exaltation, pierced his heart. She was the first person to ever notice that for all his vocal scorn for sea dragon customs, he had his own private code of honor. The first person to ever look past the surface. She saw him.

  “Well, you know.” He affected a flippant shrug. “Candor is a virtue.”

  “And you are not a knight,” she countered. “And you are doing it again.”

  “Doing what?”

  She jabbed him in the center of the chest with one finger. His whole body rang like a bell in response, desire thudding through him.

  “Doing that,” she said. “Telling a different truth to avoid the one that you don’t want to speak. Dancing away with a smile and a joke. But I am a hunter. I am your mate. You cannot evade me.”

  “I don’t want to,” he whispered.

  “And you don’t lie.” Her grey eyes pierced through his soul. She saw him, oh, she saw him. “So. You knew I was your mate before I did. You did your utmost to prevent me from realizing it. When I found out anyway, you fled. You have tried again and again to push me away. But you do desire me. You say it isn’t the fact that I am a shark that holds you back. So what is it?”

  His mouth was dry. “You—you shouldn’t want me. I’m all wrong for you. The whole sea knows how terrible I am. I can’t even count how many women I’ve slept with—”

  “All true.” She tossed back her braids, her whole body tensing as though she was about to challenge him to a formal duel. “And all irrelevant. Because I do want you, Joe of the Thunder Mountain Hotshots, Crown Prince of Atlantis, Emperor-in-Waiting, Heir to the Pearl Throne. And now you must decide how important your honor truly is to you. Because I am asking directly, right now: What stops you from claiming me as your mate?”

  He looked around wildly. “I need a drink.”

  She caught his wrist. Her slim fingers were cool against his fevered skin. Cold iron round his wrists… “No. No more evasions. Now, Joe.”

  There was no reflecting pool. Nothing he could use to check the future. Everything hung in the balance, and he was blind in the dark.

  He could lie to her. He could break his honor at last. Truly be what everyone thought he was. No one would ever know.

  Except him.

  “Because I can see the future,” he said. “And if we mate, you will die.”

  Chapter 12

  It was so far removed from anything that she’d been braced for him to say, that for a moment Seven could only gape at him.

  He’s lying, was her first proper thought. He’s lying at last.

  Except that he wasn’t.

  Sharks were sensitive to distress. They could taste the thousand different flavors of it, pick out the faintest trail and follow it across miles of open ocean. There was a difference between the blank terror of a lost seal pup and the fearful bravado of an injured bull walrus; the weary grief of a whale too sick to swim and the thrashing confusion of a sea turtle trapped in plastic.

  She knew the sour-sweat guilt of someone afraid of being caught in a lie. She knew the steel-sharp scent of someone bravely facing their greatest fear at last, refusing to turn tail and flee.

  A shark knew its prey.

  Joe was frightened. More than that. He was terrified. She could taste the hammer-beat of his heart, the leap of his blood, the sweat running down his back.

  But he wasn’t lying.

  He looked away, hitching his sheet a little
higher around his waist. “Can I find some pants? I feel that this conversation requires pants.”

  “Yes,” Seven said faintly. And then, as he turned around to reveal the powerful curves of his back, she added, “Also a shirt?”

  “Good idea.” He gestured at one of the battered armchairs in the small common room that lay between their two bedrooms. “Take a seat. I’ll be right back.”

  She followed him anyway, just in case he was actually planning to leap out a window. He flashed her a pained grin over his shoulder, as though he’d read her train of thought.

  “No more running away.” He ducked to pick up a discarded pair of jeans from a pile of clothes on the floor. “I promise. But feel free to keep watching if you want.”

  He let go of the sheet. Seven shut her eyes just in time.

  “So, uh.” she said, trying to distract her imagination from the sounds of rustling cloth. “You. Ah. You say you can see the future.”

  “Yep.” His voice was muffled, as though coming from the depths of a t-shirt. “You probably have questions.”

  Seven had all the questions. Starting with: Are you clinically insane?

  She was still trying to work out a more tactful way to phrase that when he spoke again. “I’m not crazy, if that’s what you’re wondering. Though I guess opinions vary on that one. I concede that I’m probably a bit crazier than average. But I’m not delusional. I really do see the future. It’s safe to look now.”

  Seven cracked open an eye, and found the Prince was once more decently clothed. Which still meant that he was wildly, ridiculously attractive, but at least it wasn’t a heroic struggle to keep her eyes above the level of his chin.

  He cast a glance at the bed, cleared his throat, and gestured toward the door. She allowed him to steer her back into the common room.

  Joe sank down into one chair, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. She took the chair opposite. She felt as though she was conducting a job interview. Or possibly a psychiatric exam.

  He let out his breath. “Well, this is awkward. I guess I’d better start at the beginning. How much do you know about the Seers?”