by Zoe Chant
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Chase struggling gamely to keep up, but she didn't have any attention to spare for him now. All her focus was on holding the plane together, and keeping it true on course. At this speed, the tiniest error could send her tumbling out of control, and out of the race.
Ahead, the two Mudrys had reached the final turn point, the yellow plane still a little ahead of the blue. As she'd suspected, the more experience pilot in the yellow plane began to bank right, describing a wide, looping circle. The more daring blue plane took the opportunity to dash past it. It banked left, so hard that its wings were nearly vertical, trying to complete the turn ahead of the yellow plane.
Even before the blue plane started its turn, Connie knew in her gut that the pilot had come in too hard, too fast. The blue plane stalled, spiraling out of the air. To her relief, he managed to pull back up safely, but he'd plummeted well past the race boundaries. He was out.
The yellow plane had nearly completed the turn. Connie was almost at the turn point herself, but she still had to complete her own loop. By the time she was even facing the finish line, the yellow plane would already have crossed it.
Unless… I attempt the hairpin.
Connie bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. She had only a few heartbeats in which to make the decision.
I can't. It's too dangerous. If it goes wrong, it'll tear the plane apart.
Time seemed to stretch like taffy, seconds slowing to a crawl. She glanced back at Chase, still grimly struggling in her slipstream. Her eyes locked with his, despite the growing distance between them. In that moment, she could feel his perfect trust in her, his encouragement and support.
If it goes wrong…
She knew, down to her very bones, that he would catch her.
Connie slammed the control column over.
The Spitfire heeled over on one wingtip, the other pointing up to the sky, metal shrieking with the stress. Connie sucked in her stomach, her visioning threatening to go black as the incredible g-forces squashed her into the pilot's seat. She braced herself with her feet, every muscle in her body straining as she fought to keep control of the plane.
The Spitfire whipped round the hairpin like a comet. The yellow plane's wings see-sawed, buffeted by her wake as Connie's plane screamed past mere feet in front of its nose.
The home stretch lay open before Connie, the clear blue sky wide and welcoming.
She couldn't have slowed the Spitfire down even if she'd wanted to. In mere moments, she was back over land, hurtling toward the airfield. The other plane was just a yellow dot in the distance. Even Chase had fallen away behind her. The crowds below were just a blur of color as she shot over their heads.
Across the finish line.
Chapter 18
“We won,” Connie said yet again, gazing in disbelief at the Rydon Cup. She hadn't put the massive silver trophy down once since Sammy had been forced to grudgingly present it to her. “We won.”
“You won,” Chase corrected, as he rummaged around in her fridge. He couldn't stop grinning. “You're the one who did the hard work. We just made sure the wyvern didn't get in the way. Right, Killian?”
“Hm?” Killian glanced up from his phone. He'd been rather distracted all the way through the awards ceremony. “Oh. Yes. Definitely.”
“Come on, put that thing away. You can't have accumulated that many pressing business emails in a single afternoon.” Chase pulled out a magnum of champagne, brandishing it at them both. “We have some serious celebrating to do!”
Connie blinked at the enormous bottle. “When did you sneak that in here? Come to that, how did you even fit it into my fridge?”
“If there's one thing I'm good at,” Chase said as he unpeeled the foil, “it's getting oversized things into tight places. As you know.”
He was rewarded by the faint flush that crept up Connie's cheeks. “No, if there's one thing you're good at it's jumping the gun. What would you have done with that thing if we hadn't won?”
Chase hefted the magnum, swinging it experimentally. “Well, I suppose I could have clubbed Sammy to death with the empty bottle, after we'd drowned our sorrows. I hadn't really thought about it. I knew you'd win.”
Connie rolled her eyes at him, though a smile pulled at her full lips. “You are impossible. Don't shake it up like that, you idiot, or you won't be able to pour it.”
“Oh, this one's not for pouring,” Chase said cheerfully.
Aiming the bottle at her, he popped the cork. Connie shrieked, holding the Rydon Cup up in defense as he gleefully sprayed her with champagne. For good measure, he blasted Killian too. His cousin swore, hastily shielding his cellphone.
“Chase!” Laughing, Connie flicked her dripping hair out of her face. Her eyes sparkled, finally free of all worry and fear. Privately, Chase vowed to shower her in champagne every day, if it made her smile like that. “What a waste of good booze.”
Holding the still-foaming bottle out to one side, Chase slipped his other arm around her. “I didn't say I was going to let it go to waste.”
Regardless of the Rydon Cup digging into his abdomen, he drew her close. He dropped his head to delicately lick a drop of champagne from her neck. Connie's breath hitched as he followed the crisp, fragrant trail up her neck.
The silver trophy trapped between the two of them warmed, absorbing the heat of their bodies. He flicked his tongue teasingly against her soft lips. They parted willingly for him, allowing him to explore her warm mouth. The sweetness of her kiss was more intoxicating than the champagne.
Killian cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Did you say there was another bottle of that?”
Chase could have happily murdered his cousin as Connie jerked away from him, blushing. “Uh, sorry. Um. Yes, we should all celebrate. Together.” She looked down at her wet flight suit, which was clinging to her erect nipples, and her blush deepened. “I'm just going to go shower and put on some dry things.”
*Don't you have some spreadsheets to fill in or something?* Chase telepathically snapped at his cousin, as Connie disappeared into the bedroom.
Killian spread his hands apologetically. *Sorry, but I don't think it's a good idea to leave you alone right now. Sammy is probably in a blood-frenzy of rage tonight, and the wyvern is still out there. I want to watch your back until we know everything's blown over.*
Chase knew his cousin was only acting out of concern for his safety. His pegasus still itched to kick Killian over the horizon. *Killian, in the nicest possible way… fuck off. I'll be fine, trust—*
A loud ringing sound made them both jump. Killian stared in confusion at his silent phone for a moment, then shrugged. “Not mine. You?”
Chase had forgotten he was carrying his work cellphone. He was so accustomed to having to be on call, he'd absent-mindedly picked it up that morning even though he'd resigned from being a firefighter. Now he rummaged in his pocket, pulling it out. “Griff? What's up?”
“We're at an incident up in Falmer.” Griff's thickened Scottish burr betrayed his concern. “An abandoned apartment block, right at the edge of the city. We think squatters must have accidentally set fire to the place. The caller said she was trapped inside, but Ash and Dai have been in there for ten minutes now and they still haven't found her. It's a real mess in there.”
“Shit.” In the background, Chase could hear the familiar sing-song shriek of the fire engine. “Hang on, what are you doing on site instead of in the control room?”
“Pretending to be you,” Griff said, a touch acidly. “I know you said you were quitting, but Commander Ash hasn't put the paperwork in yet, hoping that you'll change your mind. I volunteered to cover your shift.”
“You're on active duty again?” Chase had missed Griff's solid, reliable presence on the team. It had never been quite the same without him.
“Not officially. It's just one of my better days. I can drive a truck, at least. But I can't find people, not like you can. Chase, we really need you.”
Chase's first instinct was to leap out the window, to shift and head for the scene at full speed. Nonetheless, he hesitated, glancing at Connie's closed bedroom door. He could hear the shower running in the bathroom.
*Go,* Killian sent to him, obviously having overheard the conversation thanks to his sharp shifter senses. *You're needed. Don't worry about Connie. I'll tell her where you've gone. And if there's any sign of danger, I'll get her to safety.*
Chase made up his mind. Though it tore at him to leave, there was a life at risk. Connie would understand.
“I'm on my way,” he said into the phone.
Chapter 19
“Where's Chase?” Connie asked as she came back into the living room.
Killian was on his phone again, thumbing in a text message. “He said he had to dash off,” he said, slipping it back into his pocket. “He just jumped out the window and flew away.”
“Oh.” Connie opened the fridge to look for the second bottle of champagne, hiding her expression.
He probably got some ridiculous idea and had to act on it immediately, she told herself, trying to overcome the sinking feeling of disappointment in her stomach. He's so impulsive. No doubt he couldn't wait for even a minute.
…Not even to tell me why he was leaving?
“Did he say when he'd be back?” Connie said, trying to keep her voice light.
“No.” Killian touched her arm, making her jump. She hadn't heard him coming up behind her. “Connie, can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” She handed him the champagne, and started hunting for wine glasses. “What's on your mind? You've been kind of quiet ever since the race.”
Killian turned the bottle in his strong, long-fingered hands, so similar to Chase's. It was strange how two people so physically alike could be so different. “Are you intending to stay with my cousin?”
Connie paused in opening a cupboard.
The race is over. My plane is safe.
I could go anywhere.
“I mean, you won the bet,” Killian said, when she didn't say anything. “You don't need him anymore. I love him dearly, but even I have to admit that he's a challenging person to handle. He's reckless, and ridiculous, and just generally…” Killian trailed off, apparently searching for the right adjective.
“Infuriating?” Connie suggested.
“Right.” Killian shot her a wry grimace of shared pain. “And God knows, he's hurt you enough in the past. Any sensible person would never want anything to do with him, ever again.”
“Yes,” Connie said slowly, leaning back against the work surface next to him. She couldn't deny the truth in anything Killian had said. “I guess a sensible person wouldn't.”
Killian gestured at her with the wine bottle. “I think you're the most sensible person I've ever met, Connie. You're basically his complete opposite. To be frank, I still can't believe you two are actually meant to be mates. So are you going to stay with him? Despite everything?”
Am I?
Connie searched the clear-eyed, wary, innermost heart of her soul… and knew the answer.
“You know,” she said softly. “Ever since my mother died, I've always had to be the sensible one. I had to learn to be cautious, to balance my dad. He could afford to be wild and bold, because I would always be there to fix things if it all went wrong. But if I was reckless, and it didn't work out… there would be no one to catch me.”
“But you were reckless today,” Killian said.
“Because I knew I could trust Chase to be there if I fell.” A slow smile spread across her face. “And I think I'm finally ready to take another risk.”
Killian looked at her, his expression unreadable. “So you'll stay with him.”
“Yes.” Connie patted his tense arm. “Don't worry, Killian. You won't be picking up the pieces of his broken heart this time.”
Killian let out his breath in a long sigh. “That's what I was afraid of.”
“What?” Connie stared at him, surprised. “I thought you liked me!”
“I do like you,” Killian said. There was a strangely regretful expression on his handsome face. “I truly do. You're smart and responsible and much too good for my fool cousin. I wish you would reconsider staying with him. Are you sure I can't persuade you to just disappear? I can give you money, enough to go wherever you want. All you have to do is promise never to let Chase find you, ever again.”
“I don't understand,” Connie said blankly. “Why do you want me to leave Chase?”
“Because you're a good influence on him.” Killian put down the champagne bottle, straightening as if he'd come to a decision. “Too good. I love Chase, I truly do… but I need him to be his worst self. Wild and irresponsible and completely uninterested in the business.”
“This is about your job?” Connie still couldn't believe what was happening.
“I've worked too hard for too long to lose my place to Chase now.” Killian's gray eyes hardened like ice. “I am going to be the next CEO of Tiernach Enterprises. Not him.”
I'm in danger.
The thought finally percolated through her stunned mind. Heart hammering, Connie tried to make a dash for the door, but Killian was too fast for her. He caught her wrist with inhuman strength, easily restraining her.
“I truly am sorry about this,” Killian said, sounding genuinely regretful. “I wish I could have just put you off him again, like I did three years ago. I want you to know, Chase never did cheat on you. I drugged him unconscious, and hired strippers to pretend that he’d slept with him. I staged the whole scene to give you the worst possible impression when you walked in on him. I had to do whatever it took to make you go away. And now, I'm afraid, I have to make sure you go away again. For good, this time.”
Someone hammered on the door.
“Help!” Connie yelled, praying that it was Chase.
It wasn't.
“Well now,” drawled Sammy, ducking through the doorway. There was nothing either friendly or human about his wide, white smile. “Mighty nice to see you again, Ms. West.”
Chapter 20
Chase's wings were still sore from fighting the wyvern. It took him an embarrassingly long time to reach the site of the fire. He hardly needed to use his pegasus senses to guide him to his fire team; the orange glow of the fire lit up the horizon, clearly visible for miles.
A thick column of smoke billowed from a derelict apartment block, orange flames roaring out of its shattered windows. Hot air rising from the inferno ruffled his feathers as he spiraled down.
Griff was standing by the fire engine, well back from the blaze. The dispatcher's rugged face was lined with barely-controlled pain, but his fists still clenched as he stared at the fire with helpless frustration. He glanced up as Chase landed, clicking off his radio.
“Am I glad to see you,” he said. “Can you sense anyone?”
Quickly shifting back to human form, Chase concentrated. He immediately sensed Commander Ash and Dai, searching through the first floor of the building. He questing out further, searching for any other people inside.
Ignore that. There's no one in there. His pegasus tugged at his attention, trying to drag him toward a nearby alley. Quick! Kill, strike, hurry!
Confused by his stallion's agitation, Chase turned his attention in that direction… and stiffened.
There wasn't any in the building, but there was someone nearby, watching them all.
Someone he recognized.
“Chase?” Griff said in confusion, but he was already running, leaving the dispatcher behind. With no time to shift, he sprinted for the alleyway as fast as mere human legs could carry him.
*DAI! ASH!* Chase roared psychically at his colleagues. *Get out here! It's the wyvern!*
He caught sight of a dim silhouette lurking in the shadows the mouth of the alleyway. The small figure hesitated as he ran towards it, then broke and fled—but too late.
With a last burst of speed, Chase hurled himself at the retreating fig
ure. His shoulder connected hard with a soft, yielding form, and the wyvern shifter let out a high-pitched yelp of pain. The impact knocked both of them off their feet. Before the other shifter could recover, Chase threw himself down on top of—her?
“Get off me!” The woman writhed underneath him, her short, plump body no match for his much heavier bulk. “Get off!”
He expected her to shift into her wyvern form, but instead she just grabbed at his wrists with her bare hands. Instantly, a burning pain shot through his skin. Chase swore, involuntarily jerking away from her acidic touch.
The wyvern shifter took advantage of his instinctive recoil to wriggle away from him, rolling to her feet. She turned to flee—
And was stopped dead by a crimson wall of scaled muscle blocking her path. The red dragon growled at her in warning, his enormous bulk filling the alley.
“Thanks, Dai.” Chase got to his own feet. He glared at the wyvern shifter. “Don't even think about shifting. You aren't going anywhere.”
The woman lifted her chin, matching his glare defiantly. She was dressed in an eclectic mix of ripped black leather and PVC, and had an asymmetric haircut with a thick green stripe dyed into the front. “Bite me, pony-boy,” she spat at him. “We both know I can outfly you any day of the week. If I didn't want to be here, I'd already be gone.”
His pegasus raged, demanding to trample the wyvern shifter, but he reined his stallion back. Despite her aggressive attitude, there was something vulnerable about her yellow-green eyes and soft, round face. She wore her punkish outfit as if it was a carefully-constructed suit of armor, a way to protect herself from the world rather than an expression of her true self.
Nonetheless, Chase stayed poised on the balls of his feet, ready to grab her if she made any sudden moves. “What are you doing here? Did you start this fire?”
“My employer ordered me to.” The wyvern shifter folded her tattooed arms, setting her jaw. “But he doesn't know I'm still here. I stayed because I want to talk to your boss.”
