Amber Flame (The Flame Series Book 4)

by Caris Roane

  Becoming alpha, however, had taken a decade and dozens of dominance fights, some of which he lost early on. He’d taken to this life, but Sharon had never been happy, not as an alter wolf or living in Five Bridges. She’d basically endured a dozen years of disappointment before her death.

  But theirs wasn’t an unusual story. Few saw contentment in their world. The alter experience was like surviving a plane crash. Though you might still be alive, you had severe injuries and your life would never be the same again. New skills had to be learned and a new way of living adopted.

  In addition, Savage had lived up to its name. Violence ruled the wolf territory more than it did any of the others. Harley, his number one beta wolf, had once told him that everyone who ended up in Five Bridges had a form of PTSD. He was probably right.

  Mary’s parents had both died during failed alter transformations. Later, her sister, Alicia, an alter wolf, had been killed when a dominance battle got out of hand. She’d been an innocent bystander when several wolves in the spectator stands went berserk.

  He honestly didn’t know how Mary had succeeded in pulling her life together after Alicia’s death, except that she loved her work. From the time she’d taken up residence in Revel, she’d focused most of her energies on her thriving small animal practice. All this he knew from their shared time in the dream-world.

  He glanced around the combined family room and kitchen. He’d seen the space often in the dreamglide. But now the colors were real, the white of her couch, the purple of her pillows, the pale gold of her drapes.

  He’d made love to her more than once on her couch, yet not exactly there, just what the dreamglide could manufacture.

  His body heated up, and his gladiator briefs tightened.

  Mary.

  Jesus, what was he going to do with her now that they’d made contact in real-time? Would she finally remember what they’d been to each other? The sex and the dozens of conversations?

  Fergus had wanted to date her, to bring her into Savage, to see where their relationship could go in real-time, but Mary had refused repeatedly. She’d never gotten past the differences between them and how he was an alpha wolf in need of a pack-mate and she was a Revel fae who enjoyed her solitary life. She couldn’t see herself in a place as violent as Savage, and he couldn’t leave his pack.

  As his thoughts circled back to his wolves, he hated that he was in Revel. With the sun still up, his pack might as well be hundreds of miles away, instead of just a couple. He wouldn’t be able to leave until full dark and in the middle of June, the sun didn’t completely set until after eight in the evening.

  He returned to the kitchen and finished his third glass of milk. He was cleaning up when he heard Mary’s voice. “I see you’re alive and kicking.”

  The sweet, gentle cadence to her words almost caused him to lose control of the empty glass. But he caught himself in time, setting it on the counter.

  He turned in her direction, ready to thank her again for saving him, but all he could see was the woman he’d made love to in the dreamglide. His desire for her and what felt like a mountain of affection made him catch his breath. His rough voice came out on a whisper. “Mary.”

  She was across the room, her hair tousled. She wore her jeans and purple silk top. She looked weary yet so beautiful his heart ached.

  She came toward him. “How are you feeling? Are you okay? I mean, are you really alive?”

  He knew he smelled like ripe wolf and didn’t want her near him until he showered. But the expression of concern and fatigue had him opening his arms.

  The moment he did, she ran to him and landed hard against his chest. She slung her arms around his waist and held on tight. “I was so worried, Fergus. You couldn’t have stepped closer to the cliff’s edge if you’d tried.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and held on. Maybe she was finally remembering. “Thank you for saving me, Sweetheart.” The word rolled easily off his tongue since that’s what he called her in the dreamglide.

  She drew back, staring at him from her light brown eyes. “Is that what you call me when we’re together?” She pulled away from him in slow stages.

  He looked at her, the arch of her brows and her beautiful high cheekbones. The wolf in him craved her, but he couldn’t act on it; he didn’t want to scare her. He nodded. “I do, but tell me you’re okay after what I put you through. It must have been hell.”

  She frowned slightly, her eyes narrowing. “I’ve never been so scared. If I hadn’t been able to sense you through my faeness, I would have believed you were already dead when I found you in the Graveyard.” Her gaze dropped to his chest and she patted him above his sternum. “How’s your heart?”

  He couldn’t help but smile. “Achy.”

  Her brows drew together. “In what way? Are you experiencing pain? What does it feel like?”

  He chuckled. “Sorry, I forgot you were a vet. I was teasing you because I feel achy just looking at you. I’m in a constant state of need because of my annual alpha cycle.”

  Mary’s brows drew together. “I’m at a real disadvantage because I’m only recalling bits and pieces of our time together in the dreamglide. But I know we’ve been close, haven’t we? I mean that much I can feel as though you’ve become precious to me.”

  He drew a deep breath. “Yes, Sweetheart, we’ve been very close.”

  She tilted her head. “I’ll be honest, I don’t know what to do with all of this and you know about my sister, what happened to her, right?”

  “Yes, I do. We’ve talked about it.”

  She chewed on her lower lip. “I’m drawn to you and there seems to be some part of me wanting to be a wolf, if that makes any sense at all. But Fergus, Savage?”

  “I know. Listen, I have no expectations here. I respected the blocks you put in place. There’s a lot against any real kind of relationship between us.”

  “Yes, there is.” She frowned and glanced at the satchel on the floor. She waved at it. “Feel free to use the master bath to get cleaned up.”

  “The guest bath will be fine.”

  She met his gaze and for a moment looked confused, then said, “Oh, right. You’ve probably been through my home in the dreamglide.”

  He couldn’t say the words but the truth was they’d made love in every room in her house. Even a couple of times in her surgery.

  He moved past her and picked up the satchel. He felt he needed to say something about what she’d done for him. “Thanks for getting me out of the Graveyard.”

  Her frown dissipated. “You’re welcome. I was happy to do it. I’ve heard terrible things about Sydon.”

  “He’s the devil’s own.” He lifted the bag. “Thanks again and please don’t worry about any of this.”

  He headed down the hall and made his way to the front bedroom. Opening the bag that Warren had brought over for him, he pulled out an oversized zipper-bag that held a pair of boots. They looked big enough to fit him. He laid out a pair of black leathers and a black tank, the basic uniform of the Savage Border Patrol.

  He was just handling the Glock Warren had provided for him when Mary’s voice entered his mind. Fergus?

  Yes?

  Warren put some ham steaks in the fridge for you. I’m cooking you up a solid meal, and I insist you eat before you head out. The milk isn’t nearly enough to nourish you right now and that’s your doctor speaking.

  His doctor? His vet, because he wasn’t a man anymore. He was a Goddamn animal. Still, he liked that she was looking out for him.

  Okay. He fished out his shaving gear, but that’s when he caught the aroma of the meat. He dropped the kit on the bed and was moving before he’d formed the thought.

  The wolf in him knew what he needed and he levitated swiftly back to the kitchen.

  Mary chuckled as she drew a plate down from the cupboard. She didn’t offer a single comment as she slapped the fried ham down on the ceramic and handed it to him.

  He felt like a freight train of must-e
at-now.

  He took the plate as well as the knife and fork she passed to him and moved to the table near the island. Some part of him was fully aware he was still in his gladiator briefs, but he didn’t care. He could feel the skewer scar on his heart like a hard pebble reminding him he’d almost died.

  He needed this meal because he had a job to do. He had to retake his pack before Sydon did any more damage. He glanced outside. Shit, at least an hour before the sun set.

  He ate.

  He ignored the rose-yarrow scent Mary exuded, the one that kept his cock twitching every other second.

  Coffee came next, a large mug. He drank and didn’t care that he burned his mouth a little. He sent healing to his tongue and fixed himself up.

  Scrambled eggs were next. Then another ham steak. He ate, drank, and ate some more.

  Mary didn’t try to engage him in conversation. He was an alter wolf with a powerful need to take in sustenance that was more canine than human. His survival relied on the constant attention to his basic drives.

  Protein kept him physically strong and ready to take on the enemy.

  He thought back to the dominance battle. Where had Sydon concealed the skewer?

  He already knew: At the seamline on the underside of his wrist guard. A small trigger-spring could have gotten the deed accomplished. The flurry of kicks and punches afterward that had cracked so many ribs had no doubt disguised a pinhole in his upper abdomen.

  And of course, he shifted into his wolf form, further restricting a view of the wound.

  Sydon had committed a perfectly executed illegal maneuver. If Fergus had died in the Graveyard, no one would have been the wiser.

  ~ ~ ~

  Mary leaned her hip against the kitchen sink, one arm pressed over her stomach as though trying to hold back all that she was sensing and feeling.

  Sometimes it was freaking hard to be a fae woman of some ability. In this case, she could sense Fergus’s shift in focus, his almost desperate need for food, and that he was in an aroused state around her most of the time.

  She just didn’t know what to do with it all. And she really didn’t understand why Fergus was even in her life. Of course part of her current predicament was completely her fault. Clearly lacking even a particle of self-control where Fergus was concerned, she’d taken him as her dreamglide lover. She still couldn’t believe she’d engaged with him in that way.

  Though who could blame her when Fergus was nothing short of a god among men. He stood six-five in his bare feet and his features were rugged yet handsome at the same time.

  She stared at the back of his head. His long black hair excited her. The male wolves of Savage grew their hair out as a matter of course. She was pretty sure it had to do with the fur they produced when they shifted into wolves. Whatever the case, she found it absurdly sexy. She wanted to touch it even now. She also had a strong feeling she did that a lot when they made love.

  A sudden dreamglide image shot through her head of Fergus face down on her bed. She was lying on top of him and kissing his broad shoulders and muscular back, one hand holding a thick sheaf of his hair as she bit and licked him. Was this really her?

  Apparently, he’d loved what she did to him. ‘More,’ his gravelly wolf’s voice had murmured. ‘God, I can’t get enough of what you’re doing to me.’

  ‘And I love your body.’ How hoarse her voice sounded within the memory, almost more wolf than fae.

  With some difficulty, Mary pulled herself out of the memory. Fergus finished his meal and rose from his chair. But he was scowling as he turned to face her.

  She wasn’t sure why until he asked, “What the hell have you been thinking about because your scent has suddenly flooded this room?”

  She couldn’t exactly speak. Her gaze fell to his thick pecs, then to his rippled beautiful abs and finally lower to the tan leather gladiator briefs. Yep, aroused. His erect cock was fully outlined, angling beneath the fabric.

  More of the same memory returned. She knew his cock well. She’d taken him in her mouth. She’d licked up and down his stalk and played with him. She’d loved her time with him in the dreamglide.

  Chills raced over her shoulders and her lips grew swollen with need. A deep ache formed between her legs. She could hardly breathe.

  “You need to stop this.” His growly voice was now hoarse, and his eyelids were low.

  “I’m not sure I can, Fergus. I’m remembering more. I took my time with your body, didn’t I?”

  He lowered his chin. “Yes. You did.” A soft low growl left his throat.

  The sound got to her, causing her to clench. She gasped. She might not remember all that they’d done together, but her body apparently did.

  She watched his nostrils flare several times. He took a deep breath and finally said, “I’m leaving right after dusk.”

  “Okay.” He should leave. Whatever this was between them had no possible future.

  “Thank you for the meal. For everything.” He turned, moving in the direction of the hall once more.

  “Fergus?”

  He paused in his steps, but didn’t look back at her.

  She continued, “Why are you able to create a dreamglide when you’re a wolf?”

  He still didn’t turn to look at her. “Because we’re sharing powers, like Juliet and Brannick, though I have no idea why.” He put his feet in motion again, then disappeared quickly down the hall.

  She went to the table and gathered up his dishes. She was achy and badly confused. She felt a strong compulsion to follow after him, maybe jump on his back and bring him down to the floor.

  Okay, she had to knock it off, or she’d go crazy.

  She cleaned up the dishes and after a time, heard the guest shower running. The sound was unfortunate, however, because now Fergus wouldn’t even be wearing his briefs. He’d be naked. All she had to do was open the door and she could take a good long look at him in the shower.

  Once more, she told herself to get a grip. It helped to have a chore to do as she tidied up the kitchen.

  When she was done, she made her way to the master bedroom. She stopped in the doorway and almost let out a scream since an unknown woman reclined on her bed. Well, not on her bed exactly, more like a few inches in the air above the covers. Mary had no idea who she was but she did know what she was.

  “You’re a ghost.”

  No shit, Sherlock. The ghost’s telepathy went straight into Mary’s mind.

  The woman wore a red tank top, tight black leather pants, and matching boots that tied in front all the way to the knees. Though her form was mist-like, she seemed very real. She had short black hair and large, heavily made up blue eyes. The mist rippled as she moved.

  Mary glanced around. “What are you doing in my bedroom?” It seemed a logical question.

  The woman planted her hands on her hips and wagged her head. And what are you doing with my husband?

  “Your husband?”

  Fergus.

  Mary put a hand to her chest as another memory surfaced, of talking with Fergus about his wife and what had happened to her. “Oh, my God. Of course. You’re Sharon?”

  Yup, the one with the torn up, broken neck. Her lips turned down. What a stupid way to die. I’m still embarrassed that I let that bastard seduce me, then kill me. I should have known he was after the Gordion pack and didn’t give a damn about me.

  Mary had no idea what she was talking about, but it sounded like Sharon had cheated on Fergus. “You had an affair?”

  Several, but this one proved deeply unsatisfying.

  “Did Fergus know?”

  Didn’t have a clue and you’re not to tell him. She looked Mary up and down. He’s got the wolf-hots for you and by the odor in the air, I’m thinking your fae ass would like to be all over him. But in real-time, not this dreamglide shit. Oh, don’t look so shocked. I’m here because I have a debt to pay and I’m supposed to help you out, or both of you, I still don’t know. The full scope of my orders is as yet unclea
r.

  Mary blinked several times in a row. “What are you talking about?”

  Sharon floated down to the floor then crossed to stand in front of Mary. Well aren’t you a tall one. Jesus, you could have been a model. Instead, you like cutting open small animals. You psychotic or something?

  Mary’s nostrils flared. “I’m a vet.”

  Which war?

  Mary got that a lot. “Do I look like a soldier?”

  Sharon pursed her lips. I guess not.

  Mary was out of her depth with this woman, this ghost. She needed a shower and some time alone. Moving into the master bath, she shook her head at the sight of herself in the mirror. Her hair stuck out in all directions.

  Yeah, you look pretty grimy, yet still Fergus wants you.

  Mary met Sharon’s gaze in the mirror. “You’re not going away anytime soon, are you?”

  Nope. I’ve got a score to settle here in Five Bridges, among other things.

  “I’m taking a shower. The night was long, the day longer, and I have a feeling things are about to get worse.”

  Sharon lifted her strong, arched brows. Don’t mind me. You do whatever you need to do.

  Mary didn’t know what to make of a sudden ghost intrusion into her life, especially since she happened to be Fergus’s deceased wife. It was too weird.

  Mary ignored the fact that the woman remained leaning against the doorjamb and watching her. She stripped out of her silk tank, jeans and underwear. Her muscles ached from the night’s activity and from sleeping on a way-too-firm surgical table. She needed to focus on her own self-healing.

  She switched on the water and waited until it warmed. Stepping beneath the spray, she moaned softly, though it came out a little hoarse, the way a wolf might moan.

  That’s one of the things I miss, Sharon called out. A good, hot shower.

  Mary ignored her.

  But that didn’t stop Sharon from continuing. I miss all the tactile sensations, like warm water beating down on your shoulders and back. Lips touching lips. Oh, and Fergus’s cock as deep as he can get it.