Raptor's Peak: Switch of Fate 4

by Grace Quillen

  “Bloodweapons?” Dakota asked.

  Aven nodded. “Bloodblades, chains, who knows what else? That’s how Flint got that scar on his neck.” Dakota didn’t say anything, but he could feel her surprised dismay. He held the gate in the fence open for Dakota and concentrated on not holding his breath or dragging her scent into his lungs like a drug.

  The range was a rectangle of cement floor, plopped in the middle of the forest. The end facing them was about thirty feet wide, the firing space five times that long, with thin steel columns scattered around the space, bundles of wire hidden inside each one. The whole thing was shaded by a peaked corrugated metal roof. Ten feet from the roofline, on all sides but the one they approached, the range was surrounded by twelve-foot-tall walls of earth, thick enough to stop a fifty-caliber round. Aven had tested them.

  Aven set his range bag on the firearms station with a heavy clunk. Dakota put her firearm next to it.

  “Who is Carick?” Dakota asked.

  Aven shook his head. “Your guess is as good as mine.” Carick was the supernatural leader of The Cause, above Jameson but also somehow removed from the central fight. Aven had never once gotten a read off the guy. Every time he tried, it was like being pulled into an infinite vortex of mystery. “He was asleep in the forest for a hundred-and-fifty years or some shit. Huge guy, black eyes. We call him the Steward. Mostly only Jameson deals with him.”

  Adjacent to the large wooden station was a waterproof metal locker the size of a refrigerator. Aven used a key to unlock it, folding the doors back to reveal the computer that made the range interactive.

  Aven turned everything on with the flip of a switch. “You want to go first? I’ll put it on the hardest setting for you,” he teased.

  “You go. Show me what perfection looks like,” she said with a wink, as if daring Aven to put a foot wrong.

  It was the sexiest goddamn thing a woman had ever said to him. It made him hard. He ignored it and got to work showing her ‘perfection’.

  Each of the steel columns scattered down the interior of the range was wired with two retractable targets: the “good” shot was an image of a vampire, the “bad” one showed the Ingrav. All the targets linked back to this computer, as did the cameras positioned under the roof. Aven could record a run, string a course, randomize which target popped out, program the intervals on a set time.

  The hardest setting adjusted itself in real time according to how quickly and accurately a shifter moved through the course. That was the setting Aven chose.

  He loaded his weapon and asked Dakota to press “start” for him. It had been months since Aven ran a range anything like this. He was sweating by the end of it. When he finished he walked back to the computer and saw he’d made it through in seventy-two seconds, with ninety-five percent accuracy.

  Dakota peeked over his shoulder at the computer screen. “That’s the time to beat, huh?”

  “No one has done it yet,” he told her.

  He walked to the far side, flipped the switches again, and came back. Dakota had her back to him, leaning on the firearms station. She shifted her weight, her heart-shaped ass tipping from left to right. Aven’s palms itched with want. He shook the thought out of his head. He had to stop thinking of Dakota that way or he was going to have one of those four-hour erections that men had to see their doctors for.

  He looked at her hands and noticed she was holding a knife in one, like a pen, its hilt tipping and turning as it moved. “You can’t carve your name in my desk until you get the high score,” he called, teasing again, loving how she talked back to him.

  But Dakota shot up straight and turned, still holding the knife. Aven noticed a spot of deep red on the back her other hand, a speck of blood among a collection of scratches . The Ingrav. She’d made the mark on herself.

  “You ready to go hot?” Aven asked her.

  Dakota looked at Aven, her wide jaw was set, her gaze serious behind her protective eyewear. She was gorgeous and focused and he could not help but think that was a deadly combination, even without the guns.

  Dakota slapped the knife on the desk and picked up her weapon.

  Aven’s phone chirped and he pulled it from his pocket. A text from Jameson: All clear on your last sweep? I didn’t get a report.

  Jameson didn’t get a report because Aven didn’t send one. Aven hadn’t sent a report because he hadn’t done his normal flyover that day. He hadn’t texted Dallas yet, either. He needed to get on that.

  But right now it was Dakota’s turn on the range and Aven wanted to see her skills. He tucked his phone away, making mental reminders to text Dallas and do a fly-over this afternoon. At least enough to keep Jameson off his back.

  Aven flipped the switch that turned the lights around the range from green to red, signaling to anyone nearby the change from no-fire “cold” to live-ammo “hot”, then hit a button on the computer to start the randomized target program. Dakota stepped onto the range. Aven pulled up the camera feed in one corner of the computer monitor, enlarging it until it took up the whole screen.

  She took a tactical stance straight off, left foot leading, keeping her profile thin as she made her way closer and closer to the first column that held a target. When she was a dozen feet away the bad target, the one with the Ingrav, popped out. Aven saw Dakota’s trigger finger twitch, but that was all. She moved on. He crossed his arms and relaxed into the enjoyment of watching her.

  She wore jeans and another button-down blouse, this one the color of burnt pumpkin. Nothing fancy, but damn, did it look good on her.

  On the monitor, Dakota commanded the space, turning cleanly and quickly as her next target appeared. Assessing, taking the shot. Hitting so close to dead center that anyone who took the bullet wouldn’t know the difference.

  Aven couldn’t take his eyes off her. Goddamn. Show me what you can do.

  Dakota continued her steady pace. Aven could tell by the flick of her lashes, the tilt of her head, that she was taking in the whole range at once. Watching and listening and feeling for the next target to pop.

  High and to her right: Ingrav. No shot. Instantly one lower and to her left: vampire. Blasted.

  She hadn’t missed one yet. And she was picking up speed.

  Aven continued to watch, and Dakota continued to dominate the range he’d designed to challenge even his own skills. Hairs around her face stuck to the sweat on her forehead. Her arms were locked tight. She glanced at each target and carried out her choice with a precision he knew could only come from strict discipline.

  By the end of it, Aven wanted to stalk onto the hot range, drag Dakota to the side, and take her against the high dirt walls even if it got her shiny, sexy little bra filthy. He’d lick her clean.

  When the last target popped and her last shot was taken, Dakota turned with a smile and walked the length of the range, clearing her weapon as she came. “Like that?” she shouted.

  “Coulda been on my team,” Aven hollered back, blown away by her confident, clean performance. Then he took a closer look at the counter on the program. Seventy seconds. Ninety-eight percent. “Holy shit, you beat me.”

  Dakota laughed as she strolled up next to him at the monitor, pushing her protective eyewear to the top of her head. “Cat-like reflexes,” she said. “My grandpa used to take me shooting out in the hills. Tin cans and stuff. Rattlers if we saw them. Said any granddaughter of his was going to know how to protect herself, one way if not the other.”

  Aven sensed a touch of sadness, then a wave of apprehension. Dakota’s eyes flicked to his briefly before she went on, her voice casual. “How long do you think it’ll be before I can get in on a hunt?”

  What? Aven held his hands out in a slow down gesture. “Let’s get you in The Cause first, before we start talking vampires. You haven’t even met the switches.”

  Dakota’s head snapped back. “I have to meet them before I’m in?”

  Aven smiled at her reaction. “We need another guard for the switches. Shilo
h could use some backup.”

  At the mention of the snow leopard shifter, Dakota’s expression soured. “Why’s she the special switch guard?”

  Aven grunted. “Do you have something against her?”

  Dakota didn’t answer, just looked at the computer screen, blinking at her score.

  Okay, he had a better idea. “We’ve already beat the computer, why don’t we get out of here? I’ll show you around the forest, some quiet parts of the river. Jaguars like the water, right?” Aven smiled casually, but his blood heated at the thought of Dakota as a lean feline, watching her from the sky as she stalked through the forest.

  Dakota hesitated for a beat, her eyes still on the computer. “Nah, let’s do this again. Make sure it wasn’t a fluke.” He sensed clear reluctance.

  Studying her, he realized he’d gotten so used to having an everweft spell on him, Aven had forgotten everyone else didn’t. She didn’t want to deal with shifting and being naked around him, because of the kiss they’d shared. He turned to the firearms station to reload their magazines for another run, ignoring his urges, and ignoring the desire to convince her, like he half-sensed she wanted to be convinced. There was no use in him getting hung up on a female he might be duty-bound to cheat on, if she wasn’t totally on board.

  Dakota stepped next to him and started reloading her own magazine. Aven caught the pink outline of the Ingrav, the drop of blood dried on her hand. He barely brushed it with his finger. “You really want in.”

  She nodded, her jaw set. “As deep as I can go.”

  Aven soaked that in. He knew what she wanted. “Covenbound.”

  * * *

  Dakota startled. “What?” she asked. “Heaven bound?”

  Aven worked quickly at the munitions table as he spoke. “No, Covenbound. It means you’re attached to a specific coven, that fate has decided it’s where you belong.”

  Dakota’s breath quickened. She forced herself to relax as she worked. Aven kept talking.

  “The only covenbound right now are Jameson, Flint, the bear with the scar on his neck, and Riot, the shifter Ryder fought last night. Breath Coven, so they glow green when the Breath coven switches are in trouble.”

  “How many covens are there?” Dakota asked.

  Aven ticked them off on his fingers. “There’s supposed to be five. Breath, Bone, Belief, Bond, Blood, but we only have one. Breath.”

  “Is Shiloh covenbound?” she asked, too quickly.

  Aven looked at her sideways. “Her eyes don’t glow any specific color that would attach her to a coven. But she’s probably coventwined, at least.”

  Dakota was going to have to make herself a vocabulary list. “Coventwined?”

  Aven nodded. “Carick says lots of shifters can be coventwined. Anyone who’s serving The Cause.”

  Dakota’s voice dropped. “Can females even be covenbound?” She didn’t think she could stand to only be coventwined, part of The Cause but still on the periphery. That sounded worse than not being part of it at all.

  Aven stopped loading rounds but didn’t answer right away. Dakota looked up at him. He looked back with a smile that made Dakota feel as warm as snuggling by a campfire. “You might be the first to know,” he said.

  Dakota ducked her head, and went back to loading her weapon.

  Chapter 13 - Pussyfooting Around

  After a few more turns on the range, Dakota was hungry for lunch. She and Aven packed up and drove to the Bear Claw Diner. As they sat down, an older Latino male walked up to their table with his arms wide open, a smile on his rugged, round face. He said Aven’s name, big and happy, like he was always glad to see him.

  Aven smiled back. “Hernando. Meet Dakota.”

  Dakota shook Hernando’s hand and wondered what kind of shifter he was. One day, her nose would work.

  “You keeping up with the rush?” Aven asked Hernando, gesturing around at the packed diner.

  Hernando rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I’d be doing better if Bryce hadn’t run off with Carick and taken my best waitress with them.”

  Dakota looked at Aven. What was that about? That guy Carick had run away? He hadn’t sounded like the running-away type.

  Aven looked her way. “They’re off doing important Cause stuff.” He gestured at the counter on the other side of the room, where Brittany was dishing up pastries, and said to Hernando, “At least you have Brittany back.”

  Dakota remembered what Maze had said yesterday, that Brittany was half-human, too. Maybe Dakota could find a way to bring it up. Suggest they start a half-breed book club and then pick Brittany’s brain for tips on how to shift?

  Hernando looked over at Brittany with a look of fatherly indulgence, then turned back to Aven. “Ever since she shifted she insists on running to work. She almost got hit by a car last week.”

  Wait, Brittany had just learned how to shift? Now Dakota had to talk to her. She ate her food with half an eye on the waitress, looking for a chance to get her alone, but thanks to the rush, Brittany never stopped moving.

  Dakota was going to eat at the Bear Claw every day until she talked to Brittany, she decided. If Aven asked why, she’d blame the pie.

  * * *

  Hours later, Aven unlocked the door to his cabin and pushed it open so Dakota could enter first. And so he could stare at her ass in those jeans. She flipped the light switch and groaned, “I’m getting in the shower. If I’m not out in thirty send the SWAT team.”

  Like hell. Aven would bust in there and rescue Dakota his damn self. Mouth-to-mouth and everything.

  Aven gritted his teeth against an onslaught of lust. Dakota naked, wet, and in need of assistance? He better find something to keep his mind busy, or he was going to be scratching at the bathroom door like a damn puppy, begging for a bone.

  “You get cleaned up, I’m on KP.” Kitchen Patrol. Sharp knives and hot surfaces ought to be enough to keep his mind right. Barely. Aven headed straight for the fridge and started taking inventory. He’d need a trip to the store soon. He wasn’t used to using things up so fast.

  Aven liked it, though. He liked cooking for two.

  He was finishing up a stir-fry when his phone rang. Jameson.

  “‘Sup, J?” No way Aven was giving Jameson more time than absolute necessary. Not this long after work hours, and with a gorgeous female counting on Aven to feed her.

  The Keeper sounded excited. “I need a favor. You free tomorrow morning?”

  Aven hesitated. He didn’t want to do anything that took him away from Dakota, and he’d already failed to do his standard Cause fly-over that he’d put off for the afternoon. It seemed like every time he remembered, he and Dakota were right in the middle of something. By the time they finished, he’d forgotten.

  First his senses get messed up, then his priorities? Not cool.

  He grumbled at Jameson. “What’s the job?”

  The excitement rolled off Jameson, thick as waves even through the phone lines. “We got a hearing for Auntie. Eight a.m.”

  “So what do you need me for?”

  “I just need you to sit with her. She won’t be with me and Cora the whole time, and she doesn’t know anyone else in The Cause. I thought that being a raptor, you’d be able to tell if she was feeling okay about it all. Hell, I should’ve had you check her out before this.”

  Aven nodded, like Jameson could see him. “I’ll be there.”

  * * *

  Dakota wrapped a towel around her wet hair and stepped out of the bathroom. The smell of cooking greeted her, something spicy and earthy and slightly sweet.

  She heard Aven in the kitchen. “I’ll be there,” he said, tossing his phone to the side and muttering a curse.

  Dakota walked that way. Her stomach rumbled. Aven’s back stiffened and his head whipped around, and... oh, cats.

  Boxers and tank tops had seemed like perfectly acceptable pajamas when she was packing. Aven’s reaction made her feel naked. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly, scanning he
r body from top to bottom. Hunger blazed in his eyes. Hunger for Dakota.

  Dakota sent the flames right back to him. You and me both, boss.

  The reminder doused the blaze just enough. Dakota broke the heated look they shared. Maybe if she kept calling him “boss” in her head, she’d convince herself that she absolutely could not be with Aven, no matter how hot he made her.

  It helped when he gestured at her towel turban and broke the tension with a joke. “Nice ‘do,” he teased her, understanding in his gaze.

  Okay, so maybe those special raptor senses didn’t always piss her off.

  He turned to the stove, picked up the huge skillet he’d been cooking in, and poured their dinner into two bowls waiting on the counter. “Lo mein?”

  They settled in the living room to eat. Dakota twirled up a bite of lo mein, her rumbling stomach urging her to move faster. She finally got the bite in her mouth and moaned around it. Oh wow, this man could cook. Why couldn’t he be a cat? If Aven turned out to be a one-man takeout kitchen, Dakota might have to reconsider her priorities.

  She couldn’t hang around here with all this sexual tension in the air and not act on it, that was one thing Dakota knew about herself. It might start off innocently enough, with them playing cards or watching TV, but it would end with the two of them naked and savage.

  She stood up, her bowl still half-full, and blurted, “I need some air.”

  Chapter 14 - Fly Like An Eagle

  Dakota hit the bedroom to dress for the cold. She pulled jeans over her boxers, glad they felt lumpy and awkward instead of silky and sensual. She stuffed her arms into her favorite fuzzy sweater, the one that felt like heaven on her skin, and yanked it over her tank top.

  This was ridiculous. Dakota wanted to feel her fingernails digging into Aven’s shoulders under her hands. Or those shoulders crowding her thighs apart, making room so he could make her scream. She had to get out of here. Dakota stepped into her boots and went back out to the living room. Aven was putting his bowl in the sink.