Wildfire Shifters: Collection 1

by Zoe Chant

  “Mine,” he gasped, pulling her mouth down to his hard, hot shoulder. “Yours. Always. Claim me.”

  His salt-sea scent filled her lungs. His body filled hers. Nothing else existed, nothing else mattered. Everything was bright and simple and clear.

  She bit him.

  With an ecstatic groan, he spilled into her at last. Somewhere in the sea of bliss, their animals swam to meet each other. His dragon’s coils entwined around her shark. They spiraled higher and higher, in perfect unison, until together they broke through into brilliant, blinding delight.

  Seven was quiet, after. He held her close, feeling the slow beat of her heart against his chest. The mate bond rippled between them, as calm and deep as the moonlit lake.

  She stirred first. He could have lain there forever, wrapped in wonder, but she sat up, disentangling herself from him.

  “How bad is it?” she asked.

  It took him a second to work out that she meant the bite. He ran a finger over the neat circle of triangular puncture marks. They were already scabbing over, his shifter healing kicking in. Even so, it was deep enough to scar. He would carry her mark on his body for the rest of his life.

  “It’s perfect.” He sat up too, capturing her mouth for a long, lingering kiss. “Like you.”

  She let out an aggrieved huff, but kissed him back. Her teeth were human again now, but no less intoxicating. He lost himself in exploring her sweet mouth.

  “I’ve just realized,” he said, pulling back. “You were born on land. You must have a human name.”

  She tensed. “No. Not anymore. I’m Seventh Novice now. That’s my real name. The one I’ve earned.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “We should still get back to the cabin,” she interrupted. She reached for her armor, starting to strap her breastplate back on. “You need medical attention.”

  The faint throb of pain in his shoulder felt very distant. The gathering ache in his groin as she bent over to pull on her leggings was of far more pressing concern.

  She narrowed her eyes at him, past her legs. “Stop that.”

  “Can’t.” He pushed himself to his feet, embracing her from behind. She gasped as he pulled her back against him. “I have the most beautiful mate in the world. I’m pretty sure it’s physically impossible for me to tear myself away from you long enough to let us get back to the base. Resign yourself. We live here now.”

  Her short, breathless laugh was more addictive than any drug. Sea, he hadn’t heard her laugh enough. He wanted to make her laugh again. And to gasp, and sigh, and scream—

  “I said, stop that.” With a wriggle that sent liquid fire shooting through him, she twisted free. She backed off, stooping to collect the rest of their clothes. “We have a lot to do.”

  He was fully hard again already. He’d always assumed that being fully mated would lessen his driving need for her, but no one seemed to have informed his cock that. “Yes. And you’re top of my list.”

  She tossed him an exasperated look, along with his shirt. “We have to bandage that wound, no matter what you say. We need to get some rest. And…” Her voice wavered fractionally, something raw and vulnerable flashing across her face. “And we need to contact Atlantis.”

  The thought hit him like a bucket of ice water, sobering him up. “I can do that now. I’ll contact my mom through the lake. I’m no good at most forms of communication-scrying, but I can always reach her. Another Imperial trick.”

  Seven bit her lip. “What…what will you tell her?”

  “The truth.” He stepped forward, taking her hands. “That I’m mated to the most incredible woman in or out of the sea. That you’ve agreed to go home because I can’t stand the thought of you putting yourself at risk for me. That I need her to send another knight to guard me instead.”

  Her eyes searched his face. “But not about your talent?”

  A guilty twinge shot through his chest, but he shook his head. “She doesn’t need to know about that. Just the fact that you’re my mate will be enough to explain why I can’t have you as my bodyguard.”

  Her lips tightened, but she didn’t try to argue further. She turned away, reaching down for her stunsword—and froze. He felt the sudden thud of her heart down the mate bond. She straightened again, slowly, never taking her eyes off the weapon.

  “You’ll have to carry that,” she said, very quietly.

  “Seven.” Her silent agony made his own heart tighten. “It’s still yours. I don’t care what oaths you swore.”

  “But I do.” She jerked her gaze away from her sword, fists clenching. “Take it, Joe. Please.”

  He wanted to hold her, but he knew it wouldn’t help. Nothing he could do would help.

  He pulled up his jeans, buttoning them. Then he bent to collect Seven’s stunsword. He juggled the pearl baton awkwardly for a moment, trying to work out the most respectful way to carry it, and then gave up and just shoved it through a belt loop. It would serve him right if it went off unexpectedly and zapped him in the ass.

  Seven had finished strapping on her armor. For a moment, her hand hovered oddly in mid-air, trying to rest on a hilt that wasn’t there anymore.

  She let it fall to her side instead. “I’ll see you back at our cabin after you’ve talked to your mother. Don’t be too long. We still need to bandage that bite.”

  “Seven,” he called after her, desperately searching for words to make things better. “My mom will understand. She won’t let anyone shame you. I’ll make sure of that. Everything’s going to be okay now. You’ll see.”

  Chapter 26

  The sky was blood red. A ceiling of smoke hung over the forest, reflecting the light from the smoldering fires below. In a clearing surrounded by towering, ancient pines, a woman’s voice rose, harsh and desperate.

  Not laughing. Not cold and triumphant.

  “No.” Lupa spun on her heel, fists clenching. “No! I won’t let you do this.”

  No chains around his wrists. He wasn’t there. For the first time, he wasn’t going to be there.

  But someone else was.

  The hunched, ice-white shape of the wendigo faced Lupa across the clearing. Its skull-head lowered, like a buck about to charge. It took a step forward, leaving a frost-filled footprint in its wake.

  “I said no!” Lupa lunged at the beast, pressing both hands to the center of its broad, shaggy chest. “Stop, Mort! As your alpha, I command you!”

  The great beast’s paw froze in mid-air. The burning blue eyes regarded Lupa steadily.

  Then the monster melted into a man. An older man, his gaunt face lined with grief, hair gone to frost. But his eyes were the same, pale blue, gentle and certain.

  “Lupa.” The man took her shoulders, embracing her like a daughter. “We always knew it would come to this.”

  The raven-haired woman shook her head fiercely, pressed against the man’s chest. “Just a little more time. Just one more day. Please, Mort.”

  “We’re out of time. The queen’s getting impatient.” The wendigo named Mort gently pushed her away again, holding her at arm’s-length. He brushed Lupa’s hair away from her face, exposing the mark on her forehead. It stood out on her pale skin, livid as a fresh wound. “I know what she’s doing to you.”

  Lupa tossed her head, making her hair cover the mark again. “I can take it. I’ll talk to her. Persuade her to be patient. We can still pull off plan A. The hotshot crew are here now, all of them, working the fire.”

  Mort let out a pained breath of laughter. “And isn’t that ironic.”

  “No, it’s destiny. Fate is on our side. The sea dragon is with them, he could still take your place. I have Wulfric shadowing the crew’s every move. All we need is a single opportunity—”

  “They aren’t going to give us that. They’re onto us now. And it’s taking everything the pack’s got just to hold off the Thunderbird, now that it’s wise to us. If it gets through and burns the sacred ground before the king can rise, it’ll all be over. You know
what she’d do.”

  Lupa’s face paled, but her jaw set stubbornly. “It won’t come to that. I’ll make the pack stronger. I’ll go tonight, find more men, turn as many as we need. They’ll do what I tell them to. And so will you.”

  “You are my alpha, but you don’t control me like you do them. And I won’t let you risk yourself for me.” The old sorrow in Mort’s face deepened. “I promised your father I’d protect you.”

  Lupa started to reply, then gave a cry of pain. She bent over, her hair swinging to shadow her face. Both her hands pressed against her head as though she was having to hold her skull together.

  The wendigo’s face twisted in matching, helpless agony. He hugged her again, holding her close, until her spasms passed.

  This was wrong, all wrong. He was supposed to be there. There were supposed to be chains around his wrists. This wasn’t what was meant to happen.

  “Lupa.” Mort bent his grey head, pressing his cheek against her sleek hair. “Little one. It’s time. Let me do this. For your father’s sake. For you.”

  Lupa’s breath came in harsh, hitching sobs. Her arms tightened around him. “But you’ll be gone. If you’re a willing sacrifice, it will eat your soul instantly.”

  He wouldn’t have been a willing sacrifice. He would have fought, to the last breath in his body. It was supposed to be him.

  Lupa’s voice cracked, broke. “We won’t—we won’t even have time to say goodbye.”

  “So we’ll say goodbye now.” Mort kissed the top of Lupa’s head, tenderly as a father tucking his child into bed. “Goodbye, little one. I love you. Never forget that.”

  The hellhound alpha’s voice was barely audible. “I won’t.”

  For a moment, Lupa just clung to the wendigo shifter, like a lost little girl. Then she let him go. She knelt, pressing one palm against the rich, dark soil.

  “Father of Serpents.” The mark on her forehead lit up, pulsing with a sickly red light. “Blood calls to blood. The world turns, the storms fade, and the time of snakes and shadows comes once more. Rise, horned consort, the ever-hungry one, the one who gnaws at the roots of the world. Accept...accept this…”

  Her voice faltered. Mort put a hand on her shoulder. His fingers tightened, squeezing, once.

  “Accept this willing sacrifice,” he said softly.

  “This willing sacrifice.” Lupa closed her eyes. A tear trickled down her cheek, but she went on, her voice gathering strength once more. “His heart awaits you, shadow-snake, eater of mountains. Come, devour, and grow strong, that you may serve your queen. On her behalf I call you by name: Unktehi, crowned serpent, mighty consort. It is time. The way is open. Rise.”

  The ground split apart. Thick black smoke poured upward, taking the form of an enormous serpent. Sharp horns curved from its broad forehead. Slits opened in the inky darkness; twin chasms of burning, malevolent lava. The demon hung above Lupa and Mort, taller than the trees, old as night.

  It was supposed to be him. He was supposed to look up into those hellfire eyes, see them fasten on him in bottomless hunger. See the fanged mouth open—

  Lupa’s face twisted as she stared up at the towering evil she’d summoned. She scrambled to her feet, starting to fling her arms wide in front of Mort—but if she’d had a change of heart, it had come far too late.

  The horned serpent struck, slamming straight into Mort’s broad chest. If it had been a physical creature, the impact would have crushed even the massive wendigo shifter into a thin smear—but he just gasped, mouth and eyes opening wide, his whole body stiffening.

  The serpent poured into him like water into a cup. Crimson fire filled his pale eyes. In seconds, the shadowy creature was gone. Only Mort remained.

  Or rather, his body.

  Its hands twitched, flexing like claws. It let out a long, satisfied breath, looking down at itself.

  “Such strength.” The hissing voice wasn’t Mort’s. “Such power.”

  Tears streaked Lupa’s face. “This sacrifice pleases you, serpent-father?”

  “It pleases me very much.” Ice crystals flurried through the air. Frost was forming where it stood, spreading out from its feet. Lupa shivered. “With this host, I can freeze the world. You have done well, child.”

  Lupa hugged herself. Her lips were already blue with cold. “Devourer, even now my pack holds your enemy at bay. They give their lives for you. If it pleases you, will you join the fight?”

  “The last Thunderbird’s feathers shall fall like snow.” The abomination’s thin lips stretched, exposing teeth that were already sharpening into fangs. “My queen shall rise again.”

  It wasn’t right. It wasn’t right. It was supposed to be him, he was supposed to be there, HE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THERE—

  Someone was calling his name, shaking him. The vision broke, shattered. As the swirling shards evaporated like morning dew, he caught one last snatch of the demon’s triumphant, hissing voice.

  “And together, we shall feast.”

  “Joe! Joe!”

  He bolted upright, heart hammering. For a terrifying moment, the darkness enclosing him was the demon’s inky blackness—and then his eyes adjusted to the faint dawn light. The slice of sky visible through the small window was clear and untroubled by smoke; the faint woody scent came not from towering pines, but from the familiar log walls of his own cabin.

  Seven’s arms slid around his waist. She hugged him from behind, her bare skin pressed against his. He leaned back against her soft curves, her solid strength. Her soul embraced him as much as her body. Gradually, his racing pulse slowed.

  Seven rested her chin on his shoulder. Her voice was soft in his ear. “That wasn’t your usual vision, was it.”

  “No.” The word came out as a croak. He moistened his dry lips. “Something new.”

  Her strong, calloused hands started to knead the tension out of his knotted back muscles. “I thought you didn’t get visions after sex.”

  “I never have, before.” He moistened his dry lips. “Did I…did I say anything?”

  “Not much. Mostly, you were just twitching. Then you started muttering something about how you were supposed to be somewhere. You seemed so concerned about it, I was worried that you were about to try to walk there in your sleep. So I woke you up.” She pressed a gentle kiss to his bare shoulder blade. “So you could at least put some pants on first.”

  “Thanks.” He was still drenched in cold sweat, but he forced a chuckle. “Turning up bare-assed at a forest fire would be unprofessional even for me.”

  “Is that what you saw? The crew’s next fire?”

  “More the one that we’re already on. Or at least, the human half of the crew are there. The Kootenai wildfire.” He rubbed at his eyes. They felt as red and raw as if he really had been standing in that clearing, surrounded by the smoke of an approaching wildfire. “That’s where I have to be. I have to go right away. I know what I have to do now.”

  Her hands stilled. “But you must wait for your new bodyguard to arrive.”

  He’d had a lifetime of practice at appearing cheerful and carefree. He drew on all of that now, to hide his cold realization even from the mate bond. He turned, flashing Seven a bright, cheerful grin.

  “Don’t worry.” He kissed her, swift and certain, and started to get dressed. “I’m not going to need a bodyguard.”

  Chapter 27

  “I wish you were coming with us,” Edith said unhappily.

  Seven passed her the final box of supplies to load into the back of the crew vehicle. “As do I. But when I insisted on staying by Joe’s side, his gift showed him nothing but disaster ahead. Now, at last, it seems there is a path to victory.”

  “Which doesn’t make a lick of sense,” Buck said from the driver’s seat. He scowled at her through the open side window. “The way I see it, you staying behind just means I’m down a solid crew member for no good reason. Joe’s really sure about this?”

  Seven looked across the car park at Joe’s tall, dist
ant form. He was over by the mess hall, apparently talking to—or at—the Thunderbird. He had his back to her, but she could still read his emotions down the mate bond as clearly as if they stood face to face.

  “Yes,” she said. Joe’s hard, unshakable certainty sat in her soul like a rock. “He is very sure.”

  Buck hmphed. “Motherloving shifter hocus-pocus. I still trust all this about as much as a magazine horoscope. At least I can wipe my ass with one of those.” He leaned on the car horn, raising his voice. “Come on, you slackers! Are you shifters or slugs? Get a move on!”

  Seven stepped back to allow the rest of the squad room to pile into the vehicle. Edith surprised her with a brief, bone-cracking hug, releasing her again before Seven had figured out how to respond. Rory gave her a more professional handshake, but his golden eyes were just as regretful.

  “If you change your mind, there will always a place on the squad for you,” he told her.

  “Excuse me, who’s crew is this, mine or yours?” Buck snapped. He fixed Seven with a ferocious glare. “Though there is a place for you here, if you ever come to your senses. You’re a damn useful person to have around in a pinch, Seven. And a motherloving hard worker. If all sharks are like you, then I’ll gladly hire half a dozen more.”

  Her throat closed, unexpectedly. It was more praise than she’d ever heard from Lord Azure.

  “Thank you, sir,” she said. “That means…that means a great deal to me.”

  Blaise and Wystan both had murmured farewells for her, along with a squeeze on her arm. Even Callum gave her an awkward, unexpectedly sweet smile that transformed his usually grim face.

  “Will miss you,” he mumbled as he slipped past and climbed into the waiting vehicle. “Was nice having someone quiet around here.”

  Fenrir’s cold nose poked her thigh. *Should run with us, Deep Bitch. Pack hunts with pack.*

  “Not this time.” She knelt to look into the hellhound’s copper eyes, hiding her face from the others. “Guard him well for me, Fenrir. Guard them all.”