Wild Things (Shifters Unbound #7.75)

by Jennifer Ashley

  Mason seemed unable to move. Jazz watched the wolf’s body jerk as he tried to get free, snarled when he couldn’t. The amber stone sat right in front of Mason, its light the brightest. It made his gray fur golden and glittered in his enraged eyes.

  Jazz knew that if she snatched up the stone, whatever magic was flowing between it and Mason would cease. The stone’s aura had connected with something in Mason’s, the innate magic Jazz had sensed inside him the moment they’d met. Mason was Shifter, yes, but there was more to him than that.

  The wolf glared at Jazz, clearly telling her to shut off the stone and let him loose, but Jazz made a wide berth around him and dropped to her hands and knees next to the map. She didn’t touch it, knowing that any interference could switch off the magic in an instant.

  The stones hid the point they gathered over, an area north and west of Anchorage. Not terribly specific, but it was a start.

  Jazz turned excitedly to Mason. “Alaska. I knew it.”

  Mason continued to growl, a wolf enraged. He wanted to attack something, probably the amber that kept him hostage, but he could do nothing.

  “Hang on,” Jazz said. “I want to try something. You’re a powerful magic beacon, and I don’t want to switch you off yet.”

  She scrambled to the table and grabbed her notebook and pencil, one of the few things she hadn’t thrown to the floor. Jazz got to her knees again and quickly sketched the map and the position of the stones.

  She passed her hands through the air over the quivering stones, formed an image of the Goddess in her head, and said, “Reveal.”

  The amber light around Mason became blindingly white. Jazz shielded her eyes while the stones next to her also flared, sending multicolored light over Jazz, Mason’s black T-shirt, the notebook, and the growling wolf. Jazz jammed her hand to the paper, willing the pencil point to write, draw, make a dot, something, to show her where they needed to go.

  The stones rocked and wriggled, their light growing brighter and brighter, heating the air. The map burst into flames, the sudden puff of fire throwing Jazz backward. The carpet caught and began to burn with enthusiasm.

  Jazz yelped, grabbed the velvet cloth, and tried to smother the flames. The cloth itself caught fire, and she scrambled back from it.

  Mason was snarling and snapping, his ears back, fangs bared. Jazz hurried to him and kicked the amber stone away from him.

  The glow didn’t die. The fire on the floor started to catch in earnest.

  Jazz dove for the piece of amber, drew it back, and threw it into the heart of the flame. She had no idea what made her do that, but every instinct told her it was right.

  Each color of light burst upward, filling the room with radiant beauty and heat, then suddenly all light died. One instant, a rainbow infused the house, the next, it was utterly dark, the only light the yellow glare of the still-burning carpet. Mason, freed, turned around and dashed out of the room.

  Phone. Jazz needed a phone, needed to call the fire department.

  There was no land line that she could see by the light of the flames in the living room. Her cell phone was upstairs, but a streak of flame began to zip between her and the staircase. She’d have to run to the nearest neighbor and hope they didn’t hate Shifters.

  Mason charged back into the room at that moment, an unclothed human man with a fire extinguisher in his hands. He aimed it at the burning carpet, smothering the flames in white foam.

  A few seconds later, Jazz was coughing at the smell of charred rug, the room now lighted only by the yellowish streetlight at the bottom of the front yard.

  Mason switched off the extinguisher and let it hang from his big hand. He breathed hard, his bare skin gleaming with perspiration.

  Jazz put her hands on her hips, looked him up and down, let out a shaky laugh. “Well, that’s something I don’t see every day.”

  “What?” Mason scowled at her. “Stones catching your house on fire? Or a Shifter who knows how to use a fire extinguisher?” Mason gazed down at the damp and stinking patch of smoldered carpet. “Aw, Seamus is going to kill me.”

  Jazz had meant a hot-bodied, naked man running to her rescue, but she said instead, “You—lit up with amazing magic.” Her excitement made her laugh. “And then be only worried about the stupid carpet. You’re the most incredible man I’ve ever met.”

  Mason looked at her, his gray eyes steady under his formidable frown. “Bet you say that to all Shifters who glow.”

  “Only you. You really are astonishing, Mason.” Jazz pressed her hands together. “I really, really didn’t want you near me at first, but I’m so glad I met you.” She squeezed her palms, making her fingers bite into her hands to keep her grounded in reality. “Even when you find your true Shifter mate and disappear from my life, I’ll still be happy I connected with you. You’ve made me realize that not all Shifters are so bad.” Her heart ached to think of the day she’d say good-bye to Mason, but she wasn’t such a fool to believe that sleeping with him meant they were bound together forever. That wasn’t how it worked for Shifters.

  Mason’s sudden growl made her jump. He’d made that noise when he was wolf. Hearing it coming from his human mouth was scary.

  “Don’t tell me where I’m going to form the mate bond,” Mason said, his voice fierce. “Or that I’ll disappear anytime soon.” He moved to her, dumping the extinguisher as he went. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

  Jazz sucked in a breath as he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her from her feet. Mason’s growls softened as he drew Jazz against him and kissed the corner of her mouth.

  His eyes held the fire of the amber. Jazz knew good and well that the magic that had sent the stones to tell her where the healer was had been his, not hers.

  That thought slid to the back of her mind as Mason’s kiss opened her, his hands gripping through the shirt. His skin was smooth and hot, his cock hard with renewed arousal.

  Mason barely made it to the bedroom this time. Mason had Jazz down on the mattress before she knew it, and before long was buried deep inside her.

  Jazz lifted herself to him and gave of herself, pushing aside any worries of the future. She wanted the here and now, and she let herself drown in it.

  * * *

  “Alaska,” Liam Morrissey said. “Are you certain, lad?”

  Mason nodded, holding in his impatience. “If Jasmine says Alaska, then it’s Alaska.”

  Jasmine, sitting next to him at the closed bar for the Shifter meeting the next morning, said, “Oh, yes. The Goddess definitely pointed that way. I can only narrow it down to about a hundred mile radius, but it’s a place to start.”

  Liam and the other Shifters in the bar didn’t believe it, Mason saw. Or they wanted to but feared false hope. Jasmine, on the other hand, trusted what the Goddess had revealed with all her heart.

  “I saw the stones and the map,” Mason said in a hard voice. “There’s no doubt.”

  “Aye, and there’s a hole burned in the rug,” Seamus said, both humor and annoyance in his tone. “Bree’s not going to be happy about that, I have to warn you.”

  “I’ll make it up to her,” Jasmine said. “Is she doing all right?”

  “She’s devastated she couldn’t come today,” Seamus answered. “She says when she feels better you two will make a night of it. Which makes me worry, I have to say.”

  Jasmine grinned at him. “I’m thrilled with why Bree is indisposed today. I warned her about getting too involved with Shifters, but I take it back. I can tell you’re good to her. Your aura is powerful, and a little … different.”

  “That’s why Bree likes me.” Seamus fixed Jasmine with unblinking tawny eyes. “I’m different.”

  “Well, she’s lucky,” Jasmine said. “I’ll tell her.”

  Seamus gave her his enigmatic smile, and Mason tried to tamp down his irritation. Jasmine was an open and engaging woman, and the Shifters here were already reacting to that. They liked her, and not just because Bree and Seamus
vouched for her.

  Mason wanted to gather her against him and tell all the others to back off. He’d found her, he’d breathed her scent and held her next to him, making love to her several more times this morning. He hadn’t been able to stop, couldn’t fill himself with enough of her to let his frenzy slack off. As Mason looked at Jasmine now, taking in her ragged black hair, delicate tattoos, and her warm smile, he knew he’d never have enough of her.

  His need for her made him more aware of the Shifters around him. Some of Liam’s trackers weren’t yet mated, and this beautiful woman claiming they had terrific auras would set off their frenzy for certain.

  The only one who seemed to notice Mason’s growing unease and anger was Tiger. The big man turned his head and looked over at Mason as though sensing his thoughts.

  “Tiger should go find this guy,” Mason blurted into the discussion, making Liam, Dylan, and the other Shifters stop and stare at him. “Tiger’s like a super-tracker, right? Made for search and rescue. If anyone can find a lone Shifter hiding in the Alaskan wilderness, it’s Tiger.”

  “No,” Tiger said without hesitation. He looked straight at Mason, pinning him with his unwavering golden gaze. “It has to be you.”

  Mason scowled, but at the same time he felt a strange flutter in his heart and knew that Tiger was right. Why Mason thought that or what the hell Tiger even meant, he didn’t know, but the wolf in him agreed.

  Damn it, Mason hated when his wolf thoughts and his human ones didn’t mesh. Made him feel like the rope in someone else’s game of tug-of-war.

  “I need Tiger here,” Dylan was saying in a calm voice. Dylan had been very quiet when Mason had presented what he and Jasmine had discovered, only watching Jasmine as she excitedly backed up Mason’s story. “I can’t spare him.”

  Tiger made no response, didn’t look at Dylan, didn’t argue one way or the other. Mason knew, however, that if Tiger had wanted to go to Alaska, nothing Dylan said would have prevented him. Tiger was staying here because he chose.

  “Mason and I already know what this healer looks like,” Jasmine was saying to Dylan, not flinching at all when he flicked his blue gaze to her. “There can’t be that many Shifters in the area if there’s no Shiftertown. Mason pointed out that the healer wasn’t wearing a Collar, so he could be living in a human town, but I’ll be able to track down his aura. Shifter auras are pretty obvious.”

  She glanced around the room, wrinkling her nose above her smile, as though implying that the auras in this room were thick. And they were—at least the scent was. A dozen nervous Shifters in an enclosed space could be … intense.

  Liam unfolded his arms. “Lad, if you want to go up to Alaska and try to find this man, I won’t stop you. It’s a long shot, but we’ve nothing to lose. I’ll set up the transport for you and Jasmine, if she wants to accompany you.”

  Jasmine raised her brows. “Of course I want to go. Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Because,” Mason said before Liam could answer, “it’s a long and arduous trip, and they think it’s a wild goose chase. You can stay here and hang out with Bree, and I’ll go up and look around. Less dangerous for you if I get caught.”

  Jasmine gave Mason an incredulous look. “Don’t be stupid. Of course, I’m going with you. You can’t find the healer without me, and I can’t find him without you. We need each other. He’s there, Mason. It doesn’t matter what anyone else believes.”

  Confidence radiated from her, the knowledge that the psychic world hadn’t let her down. Her surety touched Mason, making him believe as well, and making him want to kiss the lips that curved in self-assuredness.

  Liam gave Mason a nod. Mason could tell Liam wasn’t certain Jasmine was right, but at least he was willing to provide the resources to help them search.

  Or, maybe Liam was simply keeping Mason and Jasmine busy while he decided what he truly wanted to do. Liam didn’t always broadcast his decisions at large.

  “Two for Alaska, then,” Liam said. “I suggest you pack warm.”

  The other Shifters relaxed and began to talk—or they simply left. Liam had decided, and the meeting was done.

  Jasmine slipped from her chair and approached Tiger. Tiger waited for her, not moving as she stopped right in front of him.

  “Even if you can’t come with us, can you give us some direction?” Jasmine asked him. “I’m fairly confident I can find him now, but I’ll take any help I can get.”

  Tiger gazed down at her for a long time. His mottled orange and black hair caught the fluorescent lights, but his large body stilled as he watched Jasmine.

  Tiger shook his head ever so slightly. “It has to be you and Mason,” he said. “Or it doesn’t count.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Mason scowled at Tiger. “Count for what, big guy? Or does that just mean you don’t know?”

  Tiger didn’t move, paying no attention to Mason’s surliness. “Shifter healers stay hidden because they feel too much pain. The need for them must be great, and only those with great need can find them.”

  Mason’s impatience rose. “How do you know that? Or is it more of the cryptic shit programmed into your head?”

  Tiger turned to Mason, unblinking. “It’s in the Guardian database. Sean told me.” He looked back at Jasmine. “And if I went with you, I would be—what does Carly call it? A fifth wheel.”

  Jasmine flushed. “No, you wouldn’t …”

  Tiger sent her a wise look. “You and Mason want to be alone, and I don’t want to leave Carly. She is carrying my cub.” A note of extreme pride entered his voice. “You will succeed, and return with the healer.”

  “Well, I’m glad someone has confidence in us.” Jasmine reached out and patted Tiger’s arm. “Thank you. And congratulations on the cub. Kids are great.”

  Mason came alert as Jasmine’s fingers brushed Tiger’s large forearm. Tiger wasn’t as comfortable with touching and hugging as other Shifters were, except with Carly, his mate, and very few others he trusted.

  But Tiger simply looked at Jasmine, his eyes revealing that he was pleased with her and with himself. Without another word, Tiger turned and walked away, ducking out the door into the morning sunshine.

  “Whew,” Jasmine said, watching him go. “I like him. Nice of him to believe we can do this.”

  Mason shook his head. “He wasn’t being polite. I don’t think Tiger understands how to be. He can calculate odds like no one you’ll ever meet. He’s got numbers or something running in his head like a computer program.” Mason waved his finger over his own temple. “He’s never wrong.”

  “Good,” Jasmine said brightly. She slid next to Mason and rose on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Then let’s go find your healer.”

  * * *

  In the few hours they had before the plane would arrive to carry them to Alaska, Mason took Jazz to the warehouse district of Austin and led her into a workshop in the corner of one of the large buildings.

  Jazz immediately knew the place was his, even before they entered. She understood now where the creative streak in his aura had come from—the workshop held the matching vibrations. The feel of the cool room, the scent of wood and machinery, all matched Mason and his energy.

  Jazz looked around at the standing band saws, scroll saws, drill press, lathe, and other machines she couldn’t identify, as well as the hand tools scattered on the benches. Filing, sanding, and shaping tools were the most abundant. The faint odor of polish lingered in the air.

  “You love it here,” Jazz said in new understanding.

  “I guess,” Mason answered. His face was flushed, and for the first time since Jazz had met him, he looked shy.

  “You really do. I can tell.”

  Mason answered her by sliding his arm around her and pulling her to him for a hot kiss. His kisses had changed, from newness and introduction to passion and a taste of afterglow.

  Not that Jazz minded. She rose into the kiss, accepting and wanting, letting his lips play on hers.

 
; When they finally parted, Mason had heat in his eyes and the territorial look she’d seen when they’d been among other Shifters. Though Dale, her Shifter ex, had been protective of her, he’d never studied Jazz with that kind of tense possessiveness.

  Mason let her go, turning to unpack the Martin.

  Jazz wandered the shop, looking over the couple of guitars in the making and a half-completed box of inlaid wood. The box was fairly large, about eight inches by four on the sides, four inches deep. “What will be in here?” she asked, touching it.

  “Music box,” Mason said. He carefully laid out the pieces of broken guitar on a workbench.

  The box’s lid had been inlaid in a chevron pattern of ebony and a lighter wood, bordered by a strip of mother-of-pearl. “It’s beautiful. What will it play?”

  “Haven’t decided yet.” Mason didn’t look over at her. “Something classical like Mozart or Chopin.”

  “I like Bach,” Jazz said peering at the box’s polished but empty insides.

  “Johann Sebastian or Johann Christian?”

  Jazz came to him, giving him a blank look. “There’s more than one?”

  Mason kept his gaze on the guitar, but Jazz saw a flash of grin. “Christian was Sebastian’s son. One of the many. Also known as the London Bach. He was a big influence on Mozart.” Mason looked up again, the grin wry. “Yeah, the dumb-ass Shifter knows about eighteenth-century composers.”

  “Makes sense if you have to put their music in your boxes.” Jazz glanced up a finished guitar hanging above the bench. It was made of a dark, striped wood she couldn’t identify. “I never knew Shifters could be so artistic,” she confessed.

  “That’s because you only met Shifters looking to pick up human women in bars,” Mason said. “Shifters are horny. The ones in bars and roadhouses are looking for a quick screw, not a mating for life.”