Shifting Heat
Lynne Connolly
A book in the STORM world.
Andros was a severely disabled geek working for STORM but now he’s a powerful shape-shifting dragon. Still a geek though. Meeting Faye when they’re sharing the same air space is a bit of a shock they quickly overcome in a convenient hotel room. Hot, fast, rampant sex is just what Andros needs. Tangling with Faye between the sheets, against her desk, pretty much anywhere he can have her takes energy Andros now has in abundance. But he won’t let his emotions follow.
Faye never met anyone in her long life as exciting as Andros. But he works for STORM, Faye’s enemy. She’s never had anyone so young, either. But she can’t resist his strength, his determination—or his ripped body. Together they must hunt down a mutual enemy, but to defeat him they have to come to terms with what they are, were and will become.
Ellora’s Cave Publishing
www.ellorascave.com
Shifting Heat
ISBN 9781419934254
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Shifting Heat Copyright © 2011 Lynne Connolly
Edited by Jillian Bell
Cover art by Syneca
Electronic book publication August 2011
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Shifting Heat
Lynne Connolly
Chapter One
Could she go against a lifetime’s beliefs? Could she cold-bloodedly seduce a man, someone she’d never met, and then steal from him?
For the greater good, she’d thought she could. Now she wasn’t so sure.
Faye stared out the window of her hotel room, arms crossed over her chest. Another full moon, another night when she had to shape-shift. She had no choice about that. What she did afterward was up to her. Already her body tingled as the compulsion spread through her. A gift from nature, not always welcome or convenient, but no shape-shifter could resist. If they tried, they shifted anyway. Tonight—a night she could be certain she’d find dragons, griffins and other creatures out in their alternate forms—she planned to use it.
And the extra shot of libido that came at this time of the month, the only time shape-shifters were fertile, that would help. It would have to. She couldn’t deny that she didn’t want to go, was putting off the moment when she’d leave the relative safety of this room and face the unknown.
She’d even thought about seducing a woman. Faye was straight, relentlessly so. Although she’d tried same-sex romance, it hadn’t been for her. But it didn’t repel her, and perhaps if she tried for the sex that didn’t attract her, she might have more chance of remaining impartial, doing the job and moving on. But she had to do what she could for her mentor. And only she could do this, only she could save him, because nobody else had her skills, and nobody else cared enough to risk their life for him.
Dark shapes passed across the faces of skyscrapers where unmasked Talents had already taken to the skies. Buildings were beginning to put on their lights, illuminating the glimmer of a scale on a dragon’s wing, the soft variations on the golden fur of a griffin.
Life had been much simpler a couple of years ago. Faye sighed, remembering the days when every Talent had lived hidden among mankind. Most people, or most mortals anyway, had considered them legends and told stories about them, never dreaming Talents still existed. Fuzzing people’s minds to disguise their true forms had worked and Faye feared it would become a dying art now that the fear of discovery was gone.
Too late now to reconsider the reveal. When the dragon flying over Central Park in daylight had refused to fuzz, refused to deny what he was, the game was up. The world was still coming to terms with it, and would be for a long time to come. Now dragons were on TV, shape-shifters in the Senate. Every Talent was urged to be honest, to reveal themselves for everyone’s good. If certain politicians had their way, Talents would be forced to reveal themselves. She couldn’t see the point. But it was done and finished. It couldn’t be undone. Coming out had set Talent against Talent. Not that matters had always been peaceful between dragon and vampire, vampire and Sorcerer, but disputes were wrenching communities apart these days.
That first Talent had flown from the STORM building. Faye glanced across the expanse of Central Park to where the structure jutted into the sky. Normally it was indistinguishable from the other buildings surrounding it, but tonight anyone looking up could see it was STORM from the number of Talents around it, setting out for a night flight.
STORM was supposed to represent the rights of all Talents, but these days they took the part of the government too often. Soon they’d become another government agency and Talents would lose their valuable source of independent advice and help. It was happening already.
Faye glanced back at the blank, faceless hotel room and took a deep breath to strengthen her resolve before she took to the skies. A reminder of what she had to do tonight, why she wasn’t in her comfortable apartment downtown.
She was taking action to protect the growing resistance, saving the one man who could make it work, who had the charisma and the following to face the people who would force every Talent to come out, whether they wanted to or not. Nobody should be forced to it, though Congress was trying to mandate, saying people should know when Talents lived in their neighborhood, as if they were undesirables.
A crock of shit, the whole thing. Lousy excuses. The authorities just wanted control.
Enough. Time to go. Grabbing the pouch holding her hotel keycard, she prepared for the shape-shift. She dropped her robe to the floor and hooked the pouch’s long cord around her neck. Although it dropped to the floor, it wouldn’t trail once she’d shape-shifted.
The process came as naturally to her as breathing. It no longer excited or surprised her—she’d done it too often. So she didn’t watch the mirror or hold her breath as she leaned forward and let the familiar shape of the dragon come upon her, changing the shape of her bones, the appearance of her skin. She watched the scales spread, urging the shape-shift to hurry, pushing the pace to get out there and get the job done.
Tonight she could fly free. Usually she let old habits rule her and fuzzed, but tonight she wanted someone to see her. She didn’t know who yet, but she’d know him when she saw him. Someone vulnerable who came from that building.
Someone to seduce.
Andros hated the moment of chilly awaren
ess combined with the vulnerability he always experienced when he got naked. He stepped out on to the roof of the STORM building and shivered. One of his colleagues, Nick Ivy, a roc shape-shifter, grinned. “You’re new, aren’t you?”
“I’ve worked for STORM for a while.” Andros tried not to cover his genitals, tried to act nonchalant.
The man’s grin broadened. “I meant to shape-shifting. I know you. You’re a geek, aren’t you?”
Andros hated to make assumptions, but this big, muscular man with an all-over golden tan—shit, all over—didn’t look as if he spent his days hunched over a computer screen. “Yep, that’s me.” He felt used to the label. More a part of him than the dragon he’d so recently become. “It’s getting cold, isn’t it?” Some of the chill of early fall might account for the goose bumps pimpling his skin. But it wouldn’t explain away the nerves prickling with the compulsion to shape-shift and the anxiety nagging at him.
“You’ll get used to it.” Nick’s grin broadened. “It’ll get worse first, mind you. It’s only September.”
Oh right, the cool air. Usually New York in September was mild, but this happened to be one of those evenings when an unaccountable chill swept over the city, especially this high up. Still, Andros wouldn’t swap it for the sultriness of L.A., where he’d spent most of his life before his recent move.
Neither could he get used to being naked with a bunch of other people, most of them strangers, and in a weird pretense of politeness, not let his gaze fall to their groins or stare at nipples tightening against the cold. It was like not acknowledging an elephant in the room. He’d spent much of his life getting naked for doctors and specialists before his conversion but he’d never gotten over the shyness of revealing his body. In the company of other naked people it seemed worse, not better.
He felt much happier these days. At least he could walk. He’d gone from a geek with a lifelong illness that would have eventually killed him to a powerful creature who could fly. It was too much, sometimes. He should be grateful. Shit, he was grateful, but he was also scared and unsure.
He turned his gaze outward to the lights flickering on in the tall buildings. Blessed evidence of ordinary life. Andros had always loved living in the middle of cities, watching the life going on around him. It gave him a reason not to look at himself, to forget his condition for a time.
Nick Ivy was still staring at him. Fuck, Andros would hate to disappoint the guy, but he was relentlessly straight. But this time, when his gaze flickered over him, he couldn’t help noticing the rising erection. The big man glanced down at his body and up at Andros again. “It’s okay. We get horny this time of the month. It doesn’t happen to you?”
Andros shook his head, then nodded, then changed his mind. “I’m sorry, you’re real good-looking and all that, but—”
Nick threw back his dark head and howled with laughter, but cut it off abruptly and shook his head. “I’m not hitting on you.” Several people nearby glanced at them and grinned. Andros felt like any kind of fool but studiously kept his gaze at face level. He had no intention of discovering he was the only male on top of this building without an erection. But as he thought that, he felt his cock twitch. Oh fuck. Nick, seemingly without Andros’ inhibitions, glanced down. “Yep, you too. It’s the imperative to procreate. At least, that’s what someone told me a long time ago. We’re animals, guy. Anyone will tell you that.”
He lost the smile completely and his eyes turned grave. “I bet you’ve seen some good stuff, working where you do.”
At Andros’ frown, he explained. “Hate mail. Or rather, hate email. STORM is open now too, and the letters keep coming.”
“I hardly see them. I built a filter to channel them to a folder, then I archive them without looking.” Why let that kind of grief into his life? “Want a copy?” Something he could do.
“Hey, sure, I’d love that.”
Andros felt better, useful. That was why he’d turned to computing. His body might be weak, but his brain worked just fine. Always had.
Someone nudged Nick. “Your turn.”
So many people packed this roof on the three days a month of compulsion that they had to stand in line.
Nick nodded at him and turned around. He stepped forward and calmly dropped off the building, joining others doing exactly the same thing. To the uninformed eye, it might look like some kind of weird mass suicide, naked bodies dropping off the side of a tall building. Some of them whooped as they fell.
Then, with a flap of powerful wings, the transformed shape-shifter appeared, swooping in the sky in a spectacular display of aerobatics. Dragons mostly, but griffins and other creatures amassed there too, wings sweeping up to catch the currents, creating an even stronger breeze up here. All kinds of flying beasts appeared, some rarely seen even by other Talents. He thought he spotted a basilisk, but the dull gray being disappeared around the edge of another building almost as soon as he saw it.
With a deadly shriek and a thrust of powerful wings, the roc soared up above the roof. His razor-sharp beak and huge talons were a testament to his lethal form, the huge bird everything an eagle should be but bigger, better. He blinked once, his lid sliding over the dark eye and then, with an agile twist, he turned and flew off in the direction of Central Park.
His turn.
Unlike the more experienced Talents here, and that meant most of them, Andros didn’t enjoy the thrill of hurling himself off a building and changing his form mid-flight, however much his colleagues told him about the exhilaration of transforming with air rushing around their arms, finding an air current and riding it. Swooping their wings down and rising higher. It sounded like less of a thrill right now, and more like dancing with death. He’d never enjoyed roller coasters much, either. Unlike his sister Ania, who’d shrieked her way around every theme park California had to offer. But now he could do something Ania couldn’t. He could fly.
Still scared that he’d lose the knack and plummet out of the sky, Andros decided to shape-shift and take to the air on top of this building before he ventured farther. It had taken some time before he was able to rise up higher than ten feet or so, but at least he could do that now. And bank, and dip. He wished his friend Jack Hargreaves had stayed here instead of moving to England, because Jack was a new shape-shifter too. They’d learned their new skills together, laughing at each other’s clumsiness. It didn’t matter between them because they were both new. Except Jack, as a jaguar-god shape-shifter, couldn’t fly. But he’d laughed plenty, as had Andros when Jack had tripped over his paws and lost coordination.
The human population on the rooftop had thinned some and Andros shivered as a fresh breeze drifted over his skin, putting goose bumps on his goose bumps. He concentrated, lifted his head and stared at the rising moon. The breeze sifted through his hair, tickling his scalp. All he had to do was let it happen.
Then he felt it. A prickling sensation as scales slid over his skin. He still had no idea how it happened, but inside, his body relaxed as it obeyed the monthly compulsion. His boss, Ann Reynolds, had told him once that it was Nature’s way of forcing shape-shifters to acknowledge their true being. Maybe so, otherwise some might prefer to remain in human form, their base form.
Though, despite his fears, Andros couldn’t imagine choosing not to fly. Overcoming his fear acted like a high, and every time he did it, his apprehension lessened. Once in the air, he found flying a thrill like no other. The nearest he could get to describing it would be a sustained orgasm, not the high, fast kind, but the long-drawn-out, flowing ones. And thank fuck he’d had a few more of those recently than he’d managed before his conversion, even though he’d had to go solo. The extra boost to his libido at this time of the month helped too.
There was also a lot to be said for basic good health.
The tarred, blackened surface of the roof receded as his size increased. He used to shape-shift with his eyes closed but it wasn’t cool, so now he forced himself to watch. He just didn’t turn his head very
much until he’d completed the shape-shift, otherwise the process made him nauseous. The feeling of moving without moving, the way sitting in a train and watching the next train move made him feel as though he were moving himself. Weird. These days the whole world had turned weird. The elastic of his ID ankle bracelet stretched to take the increased size of his leg. That ID would get him back on to STORM’s roof. Otherwise, on his return, a bunch of heavily armed security staff would arrive before he’d shape-shifted back.
He’d learned to accept the sensation of cracking, reshaping bones and muscle by now, but if he could shape-shift faster, he’d hardly notice it at all. Or so his colleagues told him. At first they’d stayed back, nannying him, but Andros had done with that. After a lifetime of coddling, he tended to get impatient with people who asked him if he was okay. A shame a kid with a debilitating condition like muscular dystrophy hated being cared for, but there it was. His surly responses to the twentieth “Are you feeling okay today?” had gotten him a bad rep, probably with reason, but sometimes that had proved too much on top of the constant pain. And his resentment against the world, that he should be burdened with this illness when he’d done nothing to deserve it.
Not that he had it anymore. The first few shape-shifts had taken care of the disease. Jesus, if he could market that as a cure, he’d make a fortune.
He shuddered, but this time not with cold. His dragon form didn’t feel the cold the way his human form did. He swung out his wing, enjoying the sensation of the breeze rippling across his leathery skin, ruffling the scales. Exhilarating power surged through him, but that was nothing to what he felt when he swept his wings down—which was possible now with few people left on the roof—and felt his body respond, rising with an effortless strength that defeated his remaining forebodings.
One downsweep of his wings brought him into contact with the air currents and he left STORM behind, surging through the air. Like swimming but better, without the resistance of water. After a few powerful thrusts, he allowed himself to drift lazily in the direction of Central Park.
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