by Zoe Chant
“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.” Despite her words, her hands spasmed on the bar, pulling him off his rhythm. “Why?”
“You don’t seem yourself, somehow.”
Her glassy smile cracked. For the barest instant, real panic showed in her face. Her gaze cut away from him at last, fixing instead on the weight rack.
“It’s just, just loud in here.” She jerked her head to indicate the packed room. “And busy. But I’ll get used to it.”
“You don’t have to, you know,” he said, wondering if that really was all that was bothering her. “Did you notice Wystan isn’t here? He can’t stand the gym—crowds give him a headache. He goes for a long run every morning instead. Don’t feel forced to do something just because the rest of us are doing it. Pick something that works for you.”
A hint of her usual animation crept back. “Really?”
“Sure. The chief isn’t a dictator.” Rory paused to catch his breath, his muscles burning. “He doesn’t care how we get into top condition, just as long as we do.”
She caught her lip in her teeth again, as though debating something with herself. Then she said, all in a rush, “Rory, I’m sorry that the chief is so mad. I promise I’ll work hard. I won’t let you down.”
Was that why she was so subdued this morning? He’d assumed Buck had just given her the usual welcome-to-the-crew pep talk.
Of course, Buck’s idea of motivational speaking generally involved a lot of colorful language. Not to mention the occasional anatomically unlikely threat.
Anger flooded through him. Edith was so delicate, so sensitive. Couldn’t the chief tell that she needed special consideration? How dare Buck treat her like anyone else?
He yanked the dumbbell down so fast, Edith lost her balance. She toppled over, catching herself with her hands against his chest.
“What did Buck say?” he demanded.
They were almost nose-to-nose. She pulled back a little, her eyes widening. Her obvious alarm washed over him like a bucket of cold water. What feral fury was she reading in his face, to make her recoil from him like that?
“I-I thought you knew,” she stuttered.
“Knew what? I swear, if he’s upset you, I’ll—”
“No!” She pressed down, adding her own weight to the weight of the barbell, as though frightened he would storm off to punch the chief right there and then. “I mean, you can’t. Please, Rory. It’ll be okay, I swear, I won’t let him—please, don’t ask me to explain. Just trust me.”
“I do,” he said, more gently. “But I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong.”
She was so close that he could feel the warmth of her breath against his lips. Her eyes were the barest ring of hazel around wide, dark pupils. He could see her in them again, all her defenses down.
The rest of the world fell away. All he knew was her. If it hadn’t been for the cold weight of iron across his chest, he would have cupped his hand round the back of her neck. Drawn her down to him, tasted the trembling softness of her lips…
*Heads up,* Blaise sent to him telepathically from across the room. *Asshole incoming.*
He had never been less happy to look up into Seth’s glowering scowl. Edith went bright red. She sprang away, letting go of the barbell completely. It was just as well he didn’t actually need a spotter to help him with the weights.
“You’re hogging the bench,” Seth snapped. If he’d been a griffin, his feathers would have been puffed out in aggressive display. “I want to use it now.”
As always, Rory pushed down his griffin’s instinct to put the other male in his place. It wouldn’t help to sink to Seth’s level. Of course, not reacting to Seth’s not-so-subtle dominance challenges also didn’t seem to help. The man didn’t seem able to grasp that they were crewmates, not competitors.
Rory put the bar back on the stand with barely a clink. “Sure, Seth,” he said, sliding off the bench. “I was just finishing up anyway. All yours.”
Seth took up position under the barbell with a little sneer, clearly feeling that he’d won the round. He tried to lift the bar off the rack. His triumphant expression slipped a little.
Edith was still flushed, but she reached for the bar. “Would you like me to give you a hand with that?”
“I don’t need a girl to help me lift,” Seth snarled. “Back off.”
“But it’s too heavy for you,” Edith said, sounding honestly concerned. “Here, I’ll take some of the weights off.”
A couple of watching B-squad hotshots sniggered. Seth’s expression darkened. With immense effort, he managed to inch the bar off the support.
Rory lunged to catch the bar as Seth’s arms buckled. The movement was too fast, too inhuman, but he couldn’t let a crewmate get injured. Even if he was an asshole.
“There’s no shame in knowing your limits,” he said, trying to defuse the situation. “It won’t help anyone if you hurt yourself and have to sit out the start of the season.”
The B-squad firefighters were now openly smirking at the C-squad boss. Still under the bar, Seth flushed dark red.
“Don’t you lecture me,” he spat. He jerked his chin at Edith. “You pretend you’re so perfect, but I saw you drooling over her just now. You only hired her to get into her pants.”
His overstretched control snapped at last. Without conscious thought, he let the barbell drop. Seth’s eyes bugged out.
“Don’t talk about Edith like that.” Alpha power rang in Rory’s voice like a blade leaving its sheath. “Ever.”
Seth made a little mewling sound. His hands scrabbled at the iron bar crushing his chest.
“Rory.” Edith tugged at his arm. “Let him go. You’re hurting him.”
Shame cut through his white-hot anger. The C-squad boss was irritating, but that was no excuse to unleash his shifter powers on the man. Not only was Seth just a regular human, he was fellow crew. Lives depended on them being able to work as a team.
He replaced the bar on the rack. “I’m sorry, Seth. I won’t let you disrespect any of my squad, but I shouldn’t have lashed out at you.”
His apology had the opposite effect to what he’d intended. From the way Seth’s fists clenched, Rory might as well have unzipped his fly and peed on his face.
“Damn right you shouldn’t have.” Seth scrambled up from the bench, pointing a shaking finger at him. “You’re going to regret this, you dick.”
A growl escaped him before he could bite it back. With his griffin still bristling, now he was one breath away from getting into an undignified scuffle with a fellow crew member. With Edith watching. He was supposed to be acting normal in front of her, not letting his animal instincts drive him.
“A-squad!” He turned away, raising his voice. “We’re going on a hike. Full gear. Let’s go!”
“Hey!” Seth spluttered. “You think you can just ignore me? Hey!”
He walked away, not looking back. The squad fell into step behind him.
“I really wish you would just punch him,” Blaise said under her breath.
Rory sighed. “If I thought it would finish anything, I would. But he’s so pig-headed, I’d have to seriously hurt him before he got the message. I can’t do that.”
Callum muttered, “I could.”
“No one starts anything with Seth.” He used just enough of the alpha voice to make it a command. “Like it or not, he’s part of the crew. We all need to do our best to make nice with him.”
Joe cast a significant look at Edith. “What if he gives one of us a hard time?”
“Then I’ll bounce him like a basketball,” Rory growled. “If he takes out his frustrations with me on any of you, let me know. Especially you, Edith.”
Her chin jerked down in the barest nod. The stiffness was back in her posture. Where had all her alert, dancing grace gone? It was like she was a puppet of herself. It made him want to rip something apart. Preferably Seth.
“Hey,” he said, taking her elbow and drawing her a little apart from the others. He
lowered his voice. “It’s not true, you know. What Seth said.”
She met his eyes. All he could see in them was himself, reflected back. “About you wanting to sleep with me?”
Damn Seth.
“Right,” he said, his voice roughening. He wished his power worked on her. “You earned your place on this squad. Don’t ever doubt that, okay?”
“Okay,” she echoed. She pulled her arm free, stepping back. Her spine straightened. “I believe you. And I meant what I said earlier. I won’t let you down.”
“I know you won’t.” His hands felt big and awkward. He felt big and awkward. Everything was all wrong, and he didn’t know why. “Go get your turn outs and pack. We’ll show Buck what A-squad can do.”
Rory let out his breath as Edith headed off. That had been a close one. He was doubly grateful now that they’d been interrupted before, in the storeroom. If he’d kissed her then, she’d never have listened to him now. She would have believed Seth’s insinuations. Her confidence would have been crushed.
Have to be more careful in future, he vowed grimly.
No more longing looks. No more finding excuses for touching her. From now on, he would be carefully, painfully professional. At least for now.
When she knew she belonged in the crew…then, and only then, could he try to win her heart.
Chapter 15
The prey was never alone.
The situation was maddening. All it needed was a single unguarded moment, a chance to swoop in and strike…but the pack never gave the opportunity.
They slept together. Ate together. Spent long hours running up and down the mountain and cutting strange, pointless trenches through the undergrowth. There was not a single minute, night or day, when the prey was not guarded.
The shifter pack knew it was watching. One of them seemed to have an uncanny knack of sensing its presence. No matter how high in the sky it flew, the flame-haired shifter’s face would turn upward, tracking it through the sky.
Could he detect its true nature? Or had he merely noticed a hawk behaving oddly?
It was tempted to jump hosts again, but caution held it back. Transferring its essence would send out a pulse of energy that could be detected, by those with the senses to do so. The shifters might not be alert to such things…but there was another who was.
And it was not yet ready to attract that one’s attention.
It couldn’t decide whether the shifters knew of its plot or not. On the one horn, they hadn’t yet tried to attack it. On the other, they stayed close together, like deer scenting a circling wolf.
It had a little more time before it would need to abandon the hawk’s body. It could be patient for a while longer.
It circled high above the pack. Waiting. Watching.
For the prey to make a single mistake.
Chapter 16
“Spot fire!” Buck called.
From his position at the head of the squad, Rory looked up. The swift, powerful strokes of his Pulaski never paused as he swept the meadow with an assessing glance.
“Bump up,” he said calmly. “Edith and Callum, go.”
She’d been at the back of the squad, clearing the last debris from the newly-cut line with a MacCleod—a kind of heavy-duty rake with tines on one side and a hoe on the other. Rory’s call took her by surprise. She fumbled her tool, nearly dropping it.
“Come on, Edith!” Blaise, who was just ahead of her in line, shoved the Pulaski she’d been wielding at her. “Go, go!”
Up ahead, Callum and Wystan had already exchanged tools like Olympic relay runners passing a baton. Much more awkwardly, Edith swapped with Blaise. The other woman took up the job of raking, while Edith raced after Callum.
He cast her a sideways glance and a nod as she caught up with him. She stretched her legs, chest burning as she fought to match his longer stride.
“Falling behind, A-squad!” Buck roared.
Seth and Tanner’s runners were already at work, cutting line around red blankets that Buck had thrown onto the ground. Skidding to a halt in front of their own simulated spot fire, Edith sank her Pulaski into the turf. She dug frantically, keeping an eye on Callum to make sure he was keeping up with her rough cuts. He followed along behind, methodically clearing the ground down to bare soil.
“Wind’s shifted!” Buck announced with distinct glee. “Double-strength gusts, straight east. Think fast!”
It was a perfectly calm day. Edith did her best to visualize fire creeping through the peaceful meadow, gobbling up the waist-high grass. She imagined what would happen if a mean, capricious wind suddenly fanned the flames…
“That’s it.” Callum tossed aside a last clod of cut turf, leaving the blanket isolated in a circle of dirt. “Fire’s ringed.”
“Wait.” She grabbed Callum’s sleeve as he started to turn away. “It wouldn’t hold. We need to widened by four more inches on this side.”
He hesitated. His gaze flicked back to the rest of their squad, nearly out of sight across the meadow. In the distance, she saw Rory’s head turn in their direction.
They didn’t exchange any signal that she could see, but Callum nodded. Without a word, he took up his tool again. Working together, they reinforced their line.
“Ha!” Seth’s triumphant voice echoed across the meadow. The men he’d sent out had already ringed their pretend spot fire and returned to the body of the squad. “Suck it, losers!”
Edith’s heart lurched. She kept cutting line, but her arms felt like lead.
C-squad had won the exercise. She’d let everyone down. She’d fumbled the tool exchange. She’d made a bad call on reinforcing the line. She should have gone back and checked with Rory. Buck would fire Rory and it would all be her fault—
Buck ambled over to the line C-squad had cut around their red blanket. Even from twenty feet away, Edith could hear his sigh.
“Everyone stop,” he announced. “Hand your tools to C-squad. They’ll be sharpening them for you this afternoon.”
“What?” Seth sounded outraged. “But we finished first!”
“And turned the entire crew into toasted marshmallows.” Buck spat on the ground. “I said the wind had picked up, idiots. This wouldn’t hold.”
Edith swallowed hard as Buck wandered over to inspect their own attempt. Her hands twisted on her Pulaski. She made herself stand still.
Buck grunted. “Good.”
She was so busy making sure she met his eyes, she didn’t realize she should have responded until it was too late. By the time she’d found her tongue, he’d already turned away to check B-squad’s work.
“Woohoo!” Joe jogged up to them, beaming ear to ear. “Nice job. And now we get finish early for the day. Lay on me the highest of fives!”
She grinned back, Buck’s grudging praise still ringing in her ears. She jumped up as high as she could, but her own hand barely made it as far as Joe’s elbow, let alone his palm. Laughing, he lowered his arm to offer a fist-bump instead.
“Come on.” Joe slung an arm over her shoulders. He started to do the same to Callum, but desisted as the other man raised his Pulaski defensively. “We’re going to head into town, find some decent food instead of that tasteless mush our so-called cook dishes up. Drinks are on me.”
Her satisfied glow flickered and died. “Thanks, but I’m kind of tired. I think I’ll just head back to my cabin.”
Joe made a face. “All you’ve done over the past week is work and sleep. You’re gonna dig yourself into the ground at this rate. You can let yourself relax occasionally, you know.”
That was exactly what she couldn’t do. Her face hurt from maintaining her mask-like smile. It was all she could do to keep her hands under control.
“Sorry.” She moved out from under his arm. “I’m not really a bar person.”
Callum frowned at Joe. “I’m not either.”
“A picnic then,” Joe said promptly. “We’ll pack some snacks and drinks, go chill out by the lake. How about that?”
“In that case, we definitely need to celebrate,” Joe said. “Come on, Edith. We’re meant to be a squad, you have to hang out with us. Rory, you tell her.”
He was standing quietly a little way off, waiting for the squad to finish packing up. The late afternoon sun lined him with golden light. His eyes caught hers.
“Join us,” he said gently. “Please.”
He was so beautiful, it hurt her heart. It was hard enough not to stare at him while they were working. Suddenly trying to maintain a polite distance for a minute longer—let alone the rest of the afternoon—was utterly impossible.
“I-I can’t.” She stumbled back, groping for an excuse. “I…I dropped my canteen somewhere. I’m going to go look for it. Don’t wait for me.”
She strode away so fast it was almost a run, pretending not to hear Joe’s protests. She jogged back along the line they’d cut, dreading at any moment that someone would come after her.
To her relief, no one did. She made it all the way back to where they’d started cutting, on the bank of a small brook. The gentle white noise of the water was soothing, quieting some of the jangly static in her head. She sank down onto a fallen log, hugged her knees, and rocked.
Her senses were scraped raw from constantly monitoring her body language. Every bird call and rustle seemed unbearably loud. Every flicker of motion demanded her attention—a falling leaf, a beetle scurrying over the ground, a hawk circling overhead.
Gradually, her jangling discomfort eased. She let out her breath, tipping her head back. The hawk was still circling above her. The smooth, graceful arcs of its flight against the blue sky relaxed her shoulders even further.
It almost seemed like she’d drawn the hawk’s attention too. It dipped lower, balancing on the wind. She glanced around, wondering if it had spotted prey, but the woods had gone silent. The hawk was so low now that she could make out the barred patterns on its wings, the flex of its claws—