by Zoe Chant
Her grey eyes went wide and startled. “That’s why you slept around? To stop you from dreaming?”
“Yeah. It wasn’t even really the sex. It’s just that most women won’t let you spend the night snuggling without orgasms first.”
Her eyebrows did a complicated dance, conveying a cocktail of astonishment, disbelief, and exasperation. “You do realize that it would have been considerably easier to recruit a few understanding, casual long-term partners to meet your needs, do you not?”
“Uh, well.” His hands felt large and awkward. He shoved them into his pockets. “Stopping my visions wasn’t the only reason I…did what I did. I was also doing my best to trash my reputation.”
“Well, you certainly succeeded there. I won’t tell you what the knights have to say about you.” Seven shook her head, slowly. “Why, Joe? Are you truly so desperate to avoid your destiny? Were you hoping that the Sea Council might eventually declare you unfit for the Pearl Throne?”
“Well, that would be a nice bonus, but it wasn’t the Sea Council’s opinion that I cared about.” He looked down, not quite able to meet her eyes. “It was yours.”
She stared at him.
He hunched his shoulders. “I behaved awfully because I wanted you to despise me. I’d seen in my visions how honorable and noble you are. I was doing everything in my power to avoid meeting you, but…I wanted to make sure that if I failed, you wouldn’t want me.”
Her eyes narrowed. Her feet moved, ever so slightly, into a combat stance. He had a sudden new appreciation for just how terrifying she would be to face in a fight.
“Let me make sure I understand this correctly,” she said, in a level voice. “You deliberately went for the most bone-headed and inconvenient way of getting enough sleep, purely in order to offend me?”
“Yeah.” He swallowed, hard. “I’m really sorry, Seven. Even though I thought we could never be together, I shouldn’t have betrayed you. I should have been stronger—”
“Stop,” she interrupted. She pointed toward his bedroom. “Wait there.”
The butterflies in his stomach grew to monster-movie proportions as she turned on her heel, stalking away. “Seven. Seven, please, don’t walk out on me. Let’s talk about this.”
“I said, wait there. I’ll be back.” She slipped out of the cabin, leaving him staring at the closing door.
She couldn’t have been gone more than five minutes, but it felt like five hours. It was all he could do not to throw himself at her like a golden retriever when she re-appeared at the door. Her arms were full of yellow fabric.
“Here.” She handed him his firefighter jacket and pants. “Put these on.”
“Uhhh…why?”
She put her hands on her hips. She was already fully kitted out in her own gear. “You said it wasn’t so much the sex as the intimacy afterward, correct?”
“I guess so.” His face heated. He couldn’t believe he was discussing this with his mate. “I, um, learned that just having sex and then going back to my own bed didn’t stop me from dreaming, anyway.”
“Good.” She nodded at the uniform in his hands. “Then we are going to snuggle. With protection.”
It was his turn to stare at her, slack-jawed.
She folded her arms. One foot tapped dangerously. “Put your gear on, Joe.”
He did so. It took him two attempts to get the zips fastened, his fingers were so numb. His heartbeat thundered in his ears.
“This is a terrible idea,” he managed to get out, as Seven led him into the darkened bedroom.
“This equipment is designed to protect people from forest fires.” She pulled him down to the bed, curling up against his back. Her arm slipped around his waist. “I think it can withstand the heat of two shifters.”
Joe wasn’t so sure. Even through two layers of Nomex, he was acutely aware of every line of her body. The faint warmth of her breath against the back of his neck throbbed in his groin.
“I suddenly have a new understanding of why women paid so much money to see me dance in this stuff,” he muttered. “I think I’m developing a fetish.”
Her arm tightened around him. She pressed her lips against his nape in a soft kiss.
“Sleep well, Joe,” she whispered in his ear.
And, somewhat to his surprise, he did.
Chapter 16
Seven had thought she’d seen the full range of Buck’s volcanic temper. He’d never made the slight attempt to hold back his ire, after all. Whether it was a sloppy fire line or a badly sharpened tool, he would express himself freely, creatively, and at length.
Now she realized that she’d never seen him actually angry.
His face was hard as stone. His hands were clasped behind his back. His voice was perfectly level.
“Sabotage?” he asked.
Her shark sank silently into the depths of her soul, still and quiet as though a greater predator was passing overhead. Next to her, Joe shifted his weight, just enough so that his arm bumped against her shoulder.
It’s all right, the brief contact said. I’m here. Everything’s going to be fine.
“It’s not impossible,” Blaise said from the depths of the engine. “But why would someone go to all that trouble just to temporarily inconvenience us?”
“There’s no sign that anyone broke in last night, Chief,” Rory said. “Fenrir’s scouted around, but the only scents around base are ours. And Callum would have woken up if someone was sneaking around.”
Buck turned to the pegasus shifter. “You didn’t sense anything?”
Seven’s heart jumped into her mouth, but Callum just shook his head. “No intruders.”
Buck stared hard at Callum for a long moment. Cal gazed calmly back, expression as blank as always.
“Hmm.” Buck turned back to Blaise, and Seven started breathing again. “You say you can fix this?”
“The cap just got knocked loose.” Blaise emerged from under the hood. She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, leaving a greasy smear. “All the engine coolant drained out, but that’s easily replaced. It’ll take a while, though. I don’t have any in stock. I’ll have to go into town and wait for the garage to open. And once I’ve refilled the coolant, I’ll need to run the engine for a bit to make sure all the air bubbles are out.”
A muscle ticked in Buck’s jaw. “How soon can you get A-squad on the road?”
Blaise shrugged. “Maybe around midday?”
“We won’t be too far behind you, Chief,” Rory said. “Look, the other squad vehicles are already loaded up and ready to go. We’ll lose even more time if we try to swap everything round now. You take the rest of the crew, and we’ll catch up as soon as we can.”
Buck subjected Rory to the same long, penetrating look that he’d used on Callum. Then he turned his head to consider the rest of the squad. Seven braced every muscle, trying not to flinch as his gaze swept over her.
“Fine,” Buck said at last. “Keep me updated. Tanner, Jessica! We’re moving out!”
The B and C squad leaders scrambled into their waiting crew transports. With a final curt nod, Buck swung himself into his own Jeep. The three vehicles roared away, kicking up plumes of dust.
We did it. Seven took a deep breath, despite the choking fumes. We got away with it—
“So.” The dust settled, revealing Rory’s broad form, now squarely planted in front of Joe. She’d never seen the griffin shifter’s golden eyes so cold and hard. “You two going to tell us what’s really going on?”
“I can’t,” Joe said, for what felt like the hundredth time. “Bros, I really wish I could. But I can’t tell you.”
“So, what, you just playfully and randomly sabotaged our truck?” Blaise shoved him with both hands. She was so angry, he could feel the searing heat of her palms even through his protective jacket. “This isn’t a joke, Joe!”
“You owe the courtesy of an explanation, at least.” The icy politeness in Wystan’s voice could have frozen the sea. “We know yo
u did it.”
“I sensed you.” Callum stood next to the unicorn shifter, arms folded, equally cold. “Last night. Just never thought you might be doing something that I should stop.”
“We lied to Buck for you,” Rory snarled, his hands clenched into fists. “And now you don’t even have the decency to tell us what’s going on?”
“S-Stop!” Edith’s hands clamped over her ears, her face twisting in distress. “Please!”
The guilt he felt at lying to the squad was nothing compared to the shame that washed through him. All the angry, overlapping voices must have been pure torture to Edith’s autistic senses.
The entire squad instantly quieted as well, backing off. Rory enfolded his mate in a tight hug, shooting Joe a vicious glare over the top of her head.
“I’m sorry, Edith,” Rory said, his voice softer but no less dangerous. “Maybe you’d better go wait somewhere else while we settle this.”
“No.” Edith was still pale and shaking, but she pushed herself free from Rory’s embrace. “I w-want to know too. Joe. Please. We’re your friends.”
The hopeful faith in her face hurt even more than the others’ anger. “I can’t explain,” he said yet again, miserably. “I wish I could. All I can do is ask you to trust me.”
Rory shook his head. “I’m sorry, Joe, but that’s not good enough. One last chance. Tell us, or I’ll make you tell us.”
He’d been dreading this. Joe clenched his jaw, bracing himself for the whip-strike of Rory’s alpha voice.
“Rory, no!” Edith grabbed Rory’s arm. “You can’t. You promised.”
The griffin shifter gently disentangled himself from his mate. “I don’t want to use my power on our friends, but they’re not leaving me any choice.”
“Bring it, bro,” Joe said, with a bravado he didn’t entirely feel. He called on his dragon’s strength, imagining his mind armored in its scales. He had to resist Rory’s attempts to compel the truth out of him, he had to—
Rory’s eyes narrowed. He stared hard at Joe for a long second…and then turned to Seven. The griffin shifter took a deep breath, his voice dropping into the bone-rattling growl of the alpha voice. “Seven—”
Protective fury drowned shame. Joe surged forward, putting himself between the griffin shifter and Seven. His fingers crooked, nails ready to sharpen into claws. “Leave my mate alone.”
*ENOUGH!* Fenrir let out a sharp bark, echoed his mental roar. The hellhound shoved between Joe and Rory, his body swelling into his true hulking, bear-sized form. *Stone Bitch is right. No more snapping and snarling. We are pack!*
Rory’s golden eyes bored into Joe’s. “I thought we were.”
*We are pack,* Fenrir repeated stubbornly. *When one hunter howls to turn to follow a trail, pack turns, no matter if no one else has scented the prey. Pack trusts pack, otherwise nothing but hungry bellies and crying cubs. Seasnake has not led us wrong before. Heed his howl now.*
“Please,” Seven said. She came forward, drawing her stunsword out from beneath her jacket. Rory tensed, but she just knelt down in front of him, on both knees, head bowed. “You can trust Joe. I will give you my oath on that.”
Alone out of all of them, he knew what she was doing. His heart contracted in his chest. “Seven. Don’t.”
“I won’t claim to understand all the intricacies of sea dragon culture, but I’ve visited Atlantis enough times to know how much honor means to knights.” Rory released Edith, hunkering down so he was eye-level with Seven. “I believe that you wouldn’t make that sort of offer lightly. Will you swear that you and Joe have a good reason not to tell us what’s really going on? And promise that your secret won’t hurt anyone?”
“Yes.” Seven offered Rory her sheathed sword, across her palms. “I swear on my honor that Joe is working for the good of all, no matter how strange his actions may seem. I swear that no one will come to harm. I swear that I trust him, and that you can trust him too. By my blade and my blood I swear it.”
A formal oath-binding wasn’t just empty words. Joe’s skin prickled with the rush of power that swept over them all like an invisible wave.
He could tell that the others could sense it too. Callum and Wystan both started, looking round. Blaise hugged herself as if she was suddenly cold. The fur rose down Fenrir’s spine.
Rory gazed at Seven for a moment, brow furrowing. Then he looked up at Joe. “You’d better be worthy of this lady.”
“I’m not,” Joe said, honestly. “But I’ll do my very best. I really am sorry, Rory. If I could explain what was going on, I would.”
“I believe you.” Rory touched his arm, in a brief gesture of forgiveness that Joe knew he didn’t deserve. The griffin shifter’s voice turned brisk and businesslike. “So, do you need me to call Buck and come up with more excuses?”
There wasn’t any water nearby that he could use to check the future. He closed his eyes for a moment, concentrating on remembering what he’d seen earlier. They’d been in the car park, the sun still rising in the east, barely past the tops of the trees…
“It’s okay. I only needed to delay us for a little while.” Joe shrugged apologetically at Blaise. “Sorry, you really will need to go into town. I flushed the coolant down the toilet.”
Blaise shot him a glare that said that she wasn’t going to forgive him in a hurry for any of this. “Fine. But you’re going to be scrubbing out my toilet for the rest of the season. I’ll head off now.”
“Wait,” Rory said as Blaise headed for the door. “That Lupa woman is still out there. The one that attacked Joe, that he thought might be possessed. Joe, is all this something to do with her?”
He nodded. “I can’t say for certain, but I’ve got a hunch it is.”
“Then none of us should be on our own, just in case.” Rory turned back to Blaise. “Take Fenrir and Wystan with you.”
Wystan, his hands upraised, his shield springing into life…
“Not Wystan,” Joe blurted out. “Cal should go. Wystan has to stay here.”
Wystan’s eyebrows rose. “And why would that be?”
*Because that is how Seasnake saw it,* Fenrir said, matter-of-factly. *Come, Shadowhorse. We must hunt.*
And the hellhound trotted off, leaving Joe staring after his waving tail.
Joe puzzled over Fenrir’s statement for the next hour. It would have been longer, except that he abruptly had a more pressing concern.
Because, just as the sun cleared the tops of the pines, the Thunderbird crashed into the car park.
Chapter 17
Seven sensed it first.
For lack of anything better to do, she’d been running through sword-drills in the empty car park, while Joe paced endlessly around the perimeter. She would have liked to talk to him privately—especially about Fenrir’s peculiar statement—but there wasn’t an opportunity. Rory hadn’t let the two of them out of his sight all morning.
The squad boss was over by the useless truck, along with Wystan and Edith, unpacking and inventorying the squad’s supplies one-by-one. It was busywork, and they all knew it, but nobody said anything. Tension filled the air like a thunderstorm.
So much so, in fact, that it took her a minute to notice the actual thunderstorm approaching.
It wasn’t until her shark tugged at her attention that she realized the sour, electric tang in her mouth was more than just her own anxiety. She looked up.
Though the sky immediately overhead was still clear and sunny, dark storm clouds gathered on the horizon. Even as she watched, they thickened, boiling and churning. It was like time-lapse photography…except that it was happening right in front of her eyes.
“Joe.” She automatically took up a defensive position in front of him, stunsword drawn and ready. “Look.”
He did so, and swore in sea dragon. “So that’s what we’re waiting for. Rory!”
Rory’s head snapped up. He took one glance at the sky and blurred into griffin form. He crouched on his feline back legs, golden wings spre
ading.
“No, wait!” Joe yelled. He charged for the griffin shifter, catching a handful of feathers. “Let it come to us.”
Rory’s tufted ears flattened against his head. He let out a hiss, his front talons digging at the ground.
“Please, bro.” Joe put his hands on either side of the griffin’s huge golden beak, turning it to face him. “Trust me.”
Rory hissed again, but his wings dropped, no longer poised to launch into the air. He jerked his head out of Joe’s grasp, turning to look at Edith.
“Like hell I will,” Edith said indignantly, in response to whatever private telepathic message her mate had sent her. She snatched up a chainsaw, holding it poised with her hand ready to yank the chain. “I’m not leaving you to face danger alone.”
“If we are in any danger.” Wystan’s eyes were fixed on the sky. He had his hands outstretched, but hadn’t yet flung up a shield. “Which we may not be. Joe’s right. Let’s see what the Thunderbird wants.”
Seven stared at the rapidly approaching cloud bank. Deep within, lit by flashes of internal lightning, she glimpsed a darker shape.
“That’s the Thunderbird?” she asked.
“Yes,” Wystan replied. “It’s a powerful and unpredictable being, but it has been our ally in the past. I believe it will not harm us now.”
The wind was picking up. She turned her face into it, breathing deep. Tasting.
Rage and pain and fear. The focused, knife-sharp fear of a creature fleeing for its life…
“Maybe,” she said. “But it’s not alone.”
She could hear them now. A distant, feral, high-pitched yelping.
Edith frowned, hearing it too. “Is that—wild geese?”
Joe swore again. “Wystan, get ready! Shields up the instant it hits the ground, understand?”
Wystan opened his mouth, but there was no time for further questions. Hail abruptly lashed all their faces. Rory flung his wings around them all, shielding them from the stinging ice.
