Fated Hearts

by Garrett Leigh

  He backed Devan against a nearby tree. “You should be naked too.”

  Devan hummed. “That right?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t want you to regret this like you did last time.”

  “You regretted that too.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I could tell.”

  “How did that make you feel?”

  “I didn’t feel anything.”

  Devan moved like a snake and spun them around, shoving Zio into the tree trunk with enough force to make it bend. “Don’t lie to me.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are. Just because you don’t understand something doesn’t make it less real.”

  “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

  Devan caged Zio with his arms, and disquiet threatened the coil of heat simmering in Zio’s gut. “You need to understand.”

  “Why?”

  “Because—” Devan shook his head. “Gods, I don’t know. Maybe we should do it your way. Follow our instincts and leave the words unsaid.”

  Zio palmed his cock and tugged at Devan’s clothes. “No one can know.”

  “Then you’d better keep your hands to yourself and leave this to me.”

  Devan dropped to his knees before Zio could respond, freeing himself from Zio’s clumsy, grasping hands. “My venom may feel a little strange at first, but it won’t hurt you, I promise.”

  Venom? “Wha—”

  “Don’t worry. I’m only deadly to humans.”

  Devan’s mouth closed around Zio’s cock, cutting dead his power of speech, of coherent thought, of anything save the sensation of Devan’s tongue sliding along his length.

  Zio’s head fell back against the tree. Rough bark dug into his skull and breath tore from his lungs in a ragged moan. He thrust his hips, chasing more, but Devan’s hands held him firm, his unspoken assertion so distinct that he may as well have shouted it in Zio’s face. My terms, wolf.

  Fear that Devan would pull back overrode any desire to fight him. Zio drove his hands into Devan’s platinum hair and tangled his fingers in the awaiting silk. Devan’s scent was all around him, trapping him in a vortex of pleasure as it melded with Zio’s, gathering his arousal in a storm cloud of fearsome heat.

  Zio let out another groan. “How have you done this to me again?”

  Devan’s only answer was to draw sharp teeth over Zio’s cock. A warning, or a gesture of affection? As Zio’s thighs began to shake, he couldn’t tell. He gripped Devan’s hair tighter, tugging hard enough to hurt. Devan dug shaking fingers into Zio’s tender flesh. Claws drew blood, but Zio was too far gone to make sense of what it meant. To catch sight of the beast within the man who held Zio’s every nerve in the thraldom of his mouth.

  Madness hit Zio, a punch to the gut that doubled him over, his hands still buried in Devan’s hair. His wolf howled, undone by the pleasure-pain so akin to the wild thrill of shifting. Zio yelled, his gift unleashing before he could catch it, shaking the earth and finishing off the fractured tree he’d assaulted earlier. Branches fell and the ground rumbled. Ecstasy rocketed through him, white-hot, unstoppable, scorching everything in its path as he spilled his seed into Devan’s waiting mouth.

  His roar echoed in the clearing. He slid down the trunk of the tree, but Devan caught him before he hit the ground.

  Zio glanced at the darkening sky as his faculties returned to him. War had caught up with them, and they’d run out of time. “We need to go,” he whispered.

  Devan shook his head and pulled Zio’s face against his heaving chest. “Not yet.”

  Chapter Ten

  Varian scanned the horizon, tension seeping off him, merging with the worry tainting Devan’s every thought. “Zio and Danielo have similar abilities. Danielo can influence water . . . the sea, the tides. Zio can move the earth.”

  Don’t I know it. Devan recalled the moment Zio had shot down his throat with perfect clarity, from the hypnotic scent of his release, his quivering thighs, and the minor earthquake that rocked the earth. He couldn’t imagine how effective Zio’s gift could be in battle.

  Or maybe he could.

  Fuck, I want him. But he couldn’t have him. Dash and Luca had sent him to protect Varian’s most valuable military assets, not trigger instincts that would prove dangerous for everyone.

  The train of thought brought him back to the present and the reason he was able to push his second ill-advised encounter with Zio aside. Shortly after they’d arrived back from the woods, they’d hit the road again with the rest of the combat squad. Devan had travelled with Gale’s unit, but he’d sensed Zio’s presence in the vehicle behind them the whole way to Leicester, the ride no less unpleasant than the one they’d shared an hour earlier when they’d driven home from the woods in silence. A silence that for once had been Devan’s choosing and not Zio’s dark moods cloaking the air. Much like the night they’d met, soon after release, Devan’s senses had returned to him, and he’d withdrawn, though not as violently as the first time, and it had taken longer. He’d held Zio close for as long as they could both tolerate it before reality had driven them apart.

  Zio rubbed his chest and his mouth, as though a bitter taste was dancing on his tongue. “We have to go.”

  This time, reading Zio’s hostile body language, Devan hadn’t argued. How could he when it was so painfully obvious that the young wolf had no idea what was happening to him? To both of them?

  “Devan?”

  Dammit. Focus.

  Devan snapped to attention. Varian was staring at him. At any other time, the alpha’s gaze might’ve been curious, but not now. Not while the closest thing he had to children were out in the field, risking their lives for the survival of their pack. More than that. For the survival of shifters everywhere who craved an existence where they didn’t have to worry that their loved ones would be killed before their lives had truly got started. “What is it?”

  “It’s midnight,” Varian said. “They should’ve reached their targets by now, but they haven’t checked in.”

  “Might not have a signal if the enemy have disrupted communication lines.”

  “Maybe, but they won’t have destroyed the masts—too much risk that the humans will retaliate—and besides, even if they’ve created a fault, the humans will fix it fast. You know how they are with such things.”

  Devan did. The human preoccupation with remote conversation was forever a mystery to him. How did they live without looking people in the eye? With emojis and text in place of touch and affection?

  Not that Devan had experienced much affection recently. “They might’ve found the enemy base more guarded than they expected. Perhaps they’re lying low for a while before they move out.”

  Varian made a noise deep in his throat, and his agitation was infectious. Devan jumped from the disused motorway bridge they were parked on, landing on the grass below. He sniffed the air. Even from a few miles away, perhaps further, Zio’s scent was easy to pick out, but there were others too—Gale, Track, and Shannon. Bomber and Danielo. Devan hardly knew them, but something about the combined scent—the scent of the pack—called to him, and he understood how Varian felt more than he wanted to.

  “I’m going to scout forwards,” he called up to Varian. “Just to the next hill. I’ll come back if I see anything.”

  “Come back anyway, brother.”

  It wasn’t an order, but it didn’t have to be.

  Devan left his alpha behind and followed the scents of the wolves who’d moved out a few hours ago. He didn’t have far to go, but the terrain was rough—the abandoned industrial site made it hard to move around undetected. At least it was for Devan. The combat squad, as Devan had learned, were protected by Gale’s shield.

  “It’s not a reliable gift,” Varian said. “Because that would be too easy for us.”

  Devan snorted. “Can’t have that.”

  “Apparently not. Gale’s ability seems to vary as much as th
e weather. Sometimes he can protect the pack mind from telepathic gifts such as mine, others he can keep us invisible to technology as we move through enemy territory.”

  “How do you know which it is on any given day?”

  “We don’t, and he can’t control it. Luckily we have night vision and scanners of our own. If I can’t find my pack, no one can.”

  “But you can smell them?”

  “Of course, and so can any supernatural being downwind of them, but there are ways around that.”

  Devan had missed the part where Varian had attempted an electronic search for his team, and as he skirted around a derelict factory, there was no denying that he was downwind of them. Zio’s scent was everywhere. Gale, predictably, had moved in a straight line.

  Ignoring the pull to track Zio, Devan followed the combined scent until he came to an abandoned power plant, where it was clear the two units had, as planned, split up—Gale’s crew flanking Zio’s as they moved in to set explosives around the enemy camp.

  Devan was still far enough away that he’d yet to pick up the scent of the southern packs, but he sensed their presence, and his hackles rose. He’d never been around wolves in such numbers, but somehow his shifter soul was already distinguishing between friend and foe. Between pack and the enemy.

  Caught at a crossroads, Devan climbed a set of crumbling stairs to look out over the site. A flash of light caught his attention, gone so fast he thought he’d imagined it. Then an explosion rocked the earth, tearing through the quiet of the night, shaking the already fractured landscape.

  A silence took hold, fleeting and deadly, and then screams. The injured and dying called to Devan in ways he couldn’t explain, his healer instincts so strong he moved to leap through the glassless window, to advance on the explosion site and do all he could for any soul who needed him.

  But as he leaned out into the night, another burst of pain hit him, stronger than any other, claws that hooked into him, yanking him back from the window.

  Devan whirled around and sprinted out of the building. He ran towards the ever-growing scent of wolf blood, reaching out with his mind, filtering out the influx of distress to find the only one who truly mattered. He already knew it wasn’t Zio who was hurt, but it was someone he cared about. It was pack.

  Bonds solidified as supernatural power shimmered through Devan. The urge to shift was stronger than ever, but even in his human form, he was fast. It seemed as though no time at all had passed when he came across Bomber on his knees by a contaminated canal, his arm mangled, bones sticking out in every direction as blood poured from gaping wounds.

  Devan dropped beside him. “What happened?”

  “Grenade went off in my hand,” Bomber ground out. “It’ll heal, right?”

  His vulnerability hurt Devan’s heart. He examined the injury. “It’s already knitting together, but not fast enough for you to not pass out from blood loss. I can help if you’ll let me?”

  Bomber hesitated, and Devan understood. Zio aside, of all the young wolves, Bomber had been among the most suspicious of his presence. The most hostile to an outsider in their midst. Allowing Devan to heal him would give Devan access to his emotions, more so than he had already as his links to the pack strengthened. A frightening prospect when you weren’t sure of a stranger’s intentions.

  “Put it this way,” Devan said. “This place is gonna be swarming with humans any minute now. You want them to find you unconscious and pick you up?”

  “You’d leave me here alone?”

  “Not if I can help it, but someone else might need me.”

  Bomber shuddered, face tight with pain. “Do it. Heal me, but don’t be doing no voodoo shit with my brain after, you feel me?”

  His vernacular gave away his age, in human terms, at least. Devan laid his hands on Bomber and pondered his backstory. Bowing to Zio’s unit’s aloofness, he hadn’t done much more than skim the notes Emma had left behind. As his power flowed through his fingers and into Bomber, he wished he’d read them more thoroughly. There was nothing worse than not understanding the soul he wished to fix.

  “Whoa.” Bomber’s low whistle broke into Devan’s healing daze. “That shit is fast.”

  Devan’s vision cleared, and he studied Bomber’s injured arm. Bones had knit together, blood had clotted, and his skin was starting to close over the wounds. “How’s your pain?”

  “It’s gone.”

  Bomber gazed at him, apparently awestruck, but they didn’t have time for conversation. Sirens were already sounding in the distance, and they needed to move out.

  Devan hauled Bomber to his feet. “Can you run?”

  “Yes.”

  “On two legs? The humans are going to have helicopters up. You don’t want to be caught in your wolf form.”

  Bomber snorted but didn’t argue. “Varian still on the bridge?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you coming with me?”

  It was Devan’s turn to hesitate. In the time it had taken him to tend to Bomber, no further distress calls had reached him, but the notion of leaving Zio—of leaving pack—was inconceivable. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  “Is Zio okay?”

  “What? Why are you asking that? Is he hurt?”

  Bomber frowned. “He wasn’t when I last saw him, but I can smell him all over you, so I figured you’d seen him since.”

  Devan fought hard to let his healer instincts overcome all else. To keep the worry and desire away and be the selfless pack healer Bomber needed him to be. “He was fine when I last saw him too. Keep going to Varian. I’ll find the others.”

  Bomber nodded, his trust in Devan now solid, and vanished into the night. Devan watched him go, then turned back to the direction he’d come from to escape the explosion site. By now, the air was permeated with the scent of so many wolves—those he knew, and many he didn’t—that it was hard to distinguish between them. To know whose spilled blood he could taste on his tongue. With his head still fuzzy from healing Bomber, even Zio’s scent was too faint to track.

  Devan closed his eyes and reached out with the instincts he’d tried so hard to ignore. Followed the trail of vengeful rage until he got a lead. What the fuck are they doing that far west?

  He set off in the direction Zio’s anger was coming from, weaving in and out of buildings and leaping rusted vehicles. Violence loomed around every corner, increasing in intensity until the harsh soundtrack of a fierce fight grew loud enough to stop Devan in his tracks.

  Heart pounding, he crouched behind a wall, the caged beast within him prowling, eager to join the fray. But he resisted the battle call as the human shouts and wolf cries peaked. Man or beast, do no harm—an oath that was far easier to keep when your clan, family, or pack were living in peace.

  The fighting faded. Victorious shouts and howls rang out, and Devan’s heart lifted as Zio’s wolf voice reached him. They’d won. But it wasn’t much comfort as he waited for his newfound pack to emerge from the shadows. Blood was still the strongest scent, and the healer in Devan ached for every soul that had been hurt. I’m not built for war.

  Minutes passed, each one longer than the last. Devan paced his hiding place, scenting the air every thirty seconds. His phone buzzed in his pocket, apparently finding a signal from somewhere.

  Varian: where are they?

  Devan didn’t reply.

  Didn’t have to, because in the split second he’d torn his gaze from the scene beyond the wall, a troop of wolves had emerged from the shadows: Gale, Xan, Kate, Ishmail, with Shannon and Danielo bringing up the rear. Six of them when there should’ve been seven.

  Tension coiled so tight in Devan’s nerves he was sure they’d snap. Where is he? He stepped forward, power shimmering through him as he prepared to shift and find Zio, whatever it took, no matter the consequences, but as his claws slid out and his bones prepared to lengthen and crack, a final bloodied wolf limped free of the darkness of battle.

  Chapter Eleven

  Zio s
lumped over Varian’s kitchen counter, tired. He rubbed his arm, kneading the sore muscles. The bones had been broken for a snatched few minutes before his wolf healing had repaired them, but the dull ache remained.

  “You should’ve let Devan fix you,” Bomber murmured as the others kept their collective attention glued to the human news reports on the explosions and carnage they’d caused. “I was good as new in ten minutes, no aches or fatigue. It was wild.”

  A low growl rumbled through Zio, and his gaze drifted unbidden to where Devan sat on the floor with Shannon, close to the TV and about as far from Zio as it was possible to be without leaving the room. “I didn’t need him to heal me.”

  “So? Why not let him anyway if it causes you less pain?”

  “I’m not in pain.”

  “Liar. I don’t get your problem with him.”

  “That’s because you let him into your brain. What if he really was the enemy, huh? If Shadow Clan sent him to infiltrate us? Didn’t take him long to flip you, did it?”

  Bomber opened his mouth to respond, but Zio pushed off the counter before he could speak and stomped out of the kitchen. He’d seen the news reports already. Watched them on the internet hours ago. He didn’t get why Varian had insisted they study them together.

  “Because it helps to regroup and collectively assess a mission. You know this, Zio, we’ve done it a hundred times.”

  Zio sighed as Varian came up behind him, alpha hands firm on his shoulders, and steered him into the living room. “I know all that. I just don’t get why it had to be right now. I need to sleep.”

  “So sleep,” Varian said. “Do you not feel safe enough with your family to rest your head?”

  Safe. Zio turned the notion over in his head and discarded it. Pack was the only family he’d ever known, and Varian had always been his greatest comfort—his alpha—but, no. He didn’t feel safe. Never had. “I don’t want to sleep here. I want to go home.”