by Zoe Chant
There wasn’t any point in continuing to clear fuel without his squad supporting him. Rory switched his chainsaw off, slinging it over his shoulder. Grabbing hold of the sapling he’d just cut down, he started to drag it away—and discovered that he was trying to drag Blaise as well.
“You need to take a rest too, boss,” she said, one foot firmly planted on the slender trunk. “You look like you’re about to keel over.”
“I’m fine,” he growled, barely resisting making it an alpha command. He yanked on the branches, but Blaise kept her balance. “And we need to get this fire under control.”
“It is under control. Trust me, it’s not going anywhere. We’re well ahead of the advance, so you don’t need to act like there’s a wall of flame bearing down on us.” She glared at him, her hands on her hips. “I promised your family I would watch out for you. Now come on, before you face plant into the dirt and we have to drag you behind the line.”
We will be of no use to our mate if we are exhausted, his griffin agreed.
Rory growled again, but let Blaise lead him back to the rest of the squad. Joe had returned as well, and was busy rummaging in his pack for his canteen. Wystan lay flat on the ground, eyes closed. Callum was still standing, staring intently into the bushes.
“Something wrong, Cal?” Rory asked as he set down his chainsaw.
“Hare’s back.” The pegasus shifter pointed, though Rory couldn’t see anything himself. “Shadowing us.”
“Watch out, Rory,” Joe said, smirking. “It might be looking for another round.”
Rory frowned, unslinging his pack. “That’s odd. I would have thought it would be miles away by now. You sense anything strange about it, Cal?”
Callum shook his head. “Not a shifter.”
“Well, let me know if it does anything. Maybe it’s just wistful thinking, but I’m not so sure that was a normal animal.” He couldn’t help wincing a little as he lowered himself to the ground. Even with shifter-fast healing, his bruises were still tender.
Noticing, Wystan struggled up onto his elbows. “Let me check you over again, Rory. That was quite a knock you took earlier.”
Rory waved him back down. “For the last time, stop fussing. I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.” Blaise sat down cross-legged, taking off her helmet and running a hand through her sweat-damp curls. “I still think he’s concussed, Wys.”
“I am not concussed!”
“Yeah, it’d take more than a twenty foot fall to dent Rory’s thick skull,” Joe muttered.
“You aren’t acting yourself, Rory,” Wystan said, looking concerned. “Please, let me take another look. Head injuries need to be treated seriously, even with shifter healing.”
They weren’t going to let it go. He could use the alpha voice on them, but that would only raise their suspicions even further. He didn’t have any choice but to tell them the truth.
“I really am fine.” He couldn’t stop a silly grin from spreading over his face. “Better than fine. I met my mate.”
Joe, who had just taken a drink, sprayed water across Callum.
“Edith?” Wystan sat bolt upright. “Edith is your mate?”
“Rory, that’s wonderful!” Blaise punched his shoulder, grinning ear-to-ear herself. “Why didn’t you say so sooner?”
“Yes,” Callum said, dripping. “Why?”
“Because I didn’t want you lot gaping at her and elbowing each other.” Rory swept them all with a glare. “She’s already on edge enough.”
“I have to admit, she did seem rather skittish,” Wystan said, a faint crease appearing between his brows.
“One wrong move and she’ll run for the hills.” He settled back on his arms with a sigh. “Let’s face it, I haven’t exactly covered myself in glory so far.”
“Cut yourself some slack,” Blaise said. “You’ve spent, what, an entire ten minutes in her company?”
“And look what I’ve accomplished in that time,” Rory said gloomily. “Just think how badly I can screw things up given a whole hour.”
“Hey man.” Joe leaned over to rap his knuckles against the side of Rory’s helmet, making his ears ring. “You met your mate! Now at least you’ve got a chance to be with her. Do you know how much the rest of us hate you right now?”
“Seething with jealousy,” Wystan agreed cheerfully.
Rory couldn’t help noticing that—alone amongst the group—Callum didn’t look happy. Of course, he never looked happy, but at the moment his not-happiness was particularly intense.
“Cal?” Rory said, uncertain what could be bothering the pegasus shifter. “What’s up?”
Callum’s shoulders were as stiff as a board. “What about the squad?”
They all looked at him in surprise. “What about it?” Blaise asked.
“It’s nearly fire season. We’ll be working all summer. We could be deployed anywhere in America.” For the taciturn pegasus shifter, it was a veritable tsunami of words. Cal was worried. “You won’t be able to be with her.”
This had been gnawing at the back of Rory’s mind too. Wildland firefighting was intense and unpredictable. The hotshot crew often spent weeks at a time camped out at remote locations, completely out of reach. And even when they weren’t away on active fires, the crew had to be on standby at the base, ready to scramble at a moment’s notice.
How was he supposed to find time to win his mate? Particularly when she lived out in the middle of nowhere herself, hours from Thunder Mountain?
For the sake of his squad, he put on a warm, reassuring smile. “It’ll be okay, Cal. I know I’m a little distracted at the moment, but I’ve only just met her, after all. I’ll, er, even out.”
Callum shook his head. “Not until you’re mated.”
“Callum’s right, actually,” Wystan said, tapping a finger against his lips. “A mated couple can endure some physical separation, as long as the bond is stable and secure. But it’s different when you aren’t fully mated yet. Once a shifter meets their mate, all their instincts are naturally focused toward consummating the mate bond. If they’re prevented from doing so—if the mate rejects them, or just if they’re physically separated—they frequently start to develop mental problems. I’ve read some interesting medical research about it.”
“Really not helping, Wys,” Blaise muttered.
“Unfortunately, it’s the truth.” Wystan shrugged, glancing apologetically at Rory. “I don’t wish to be the bearer of bad news, but you need to know.”
Rory rubbed his forehead. This was all he needed. “Are you trying to tell me I’m under some kind of time limit? If I don’t mate Edith soon, I’ll go round the bend before the end of the summer?”
The paramedic grimaced. “I’m afraid so.”
A blissful smile spread across Joe’s face. “Oh, yes. Thank you, fate.”
Blaise shot the sea dragon a look that should have vaporized him on the spot.
“No, I didn’t mean it like that!” Joe held up his hands in surrender, as Wystan and Callum glared daggers at him as well. “Look, I’m sorry for the rest of you, but it’s no secret I didn’t want to be here. This is a win-win for both Rory and me.”
“Explain,” Rory said dryly, “exactly how losing my mind constitutes a ‘win’.”
“Oh, come on. You found your mate, Rory.” Joe made a sweeping, magnanimous gesture, like the Pope dispensing a blessing. “Stay. Win her heart. Be deliriously happy. And while you’re busy doing that, there’s no squad. None of us have the qualifications to be boss, and let’s face it, we’d be wasted if we tried to work under a non-shifter leader. We might as well all pack up and go home. Or, to pick a purely hypothetical alternative, go spend the summer on a remote tropical paradise populated by lovely, lonely, and very scantily-clad seal shifter ladies.”
“A strangely specific hypothetical example,” Wystan murmured.
“Some of us don’t want to go home, you realize.” Blaise folded her arms. “Or, for that matter, to Seal La
dy Love Island.”
Joe opened his mouth, paused, and shrugged. “I can’t lie. There really aren’t any selkie dudes. That’s kind of the whole charm of the place.”
“I’m not abandoning the squad,” Rory growled. “Don’t book your beach hut just yet, Joe.”
Joe shook his head, his expression turning more serious. “What’s more important, your job or your mate? Get your priorities straight, bro. It won’t kill you to take one year off. Think about it. We’re supposed to be back at base tomorrow, and then it’s balls to the wall training until fire season starts next week. You seriously going to claim Edith tonight?”
His griffin saw no problem whatsoever with this plan.
He took off his helmet, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I could…explain things. Tell her what I am.”
“Oh yes,” Joe said. “That will definitely go well. Considering she already thinks you have a concussion.”
Rory winced. “I could show her what I am.”
Wystan cleared his throat. “Rory, the poor woman has literally walked through fire this morning. Not to mention been savaged by a rabbit and had lightning hurled at her by an invisible creature she doesn’t even know was there. Don’t you think she’s had enough surprises for one day?”
“And that’s another thing.” Rory put his head in his hands, pressing his fists against his temples. “You saw that creature today, Joe. How can you even talk about quitting? You want to leave that thing roaming free? Starting more fires?”
The sea dragon hesitated. He muttered a curse in his own language. “No. Damn it, Rory. You’re a terrible influence.”
“Rory.” Blaise rested her hand on his shoulder. “We could do this without you, you know.”
“Could you?” He looked round at them all. “Really?”
One by one, they dropped their eyes, looking away.
“Exactly.” With a sigh, he levered himself to his feet. “Well. Worst comes to the worst, I’ll just have to tough it out. Time to get back to work, squad.”
He reached for his chainsaw, but Blaise caught his arm. At his raised eyebrow, she shook her head.
“A man in love,” she said firmly, “should not be operating power tools.”
Joe brightened. “I call dibs!”
Without a word, Callum claimed the chainsaw.
“Awwwww.” Joe’s massive shoulders slumped. “I never get to do anything fun.”
Wystan held out a Pulaski. “I don’t mind swamping for Cal, if you want to take a turn cutting line.”
“Bronicorn.” Joe heaved a sigh, taking the tool. “We need to have a serious talk about your definition of the word ‘fun.’”
Blaise still had hold of Rory’s sleeve. Her fingers tightened, holding him back as the others moved off, still bickering.
“Rory.” Her voice was low and worried. “What are you going to do?”
Be with our mate, his griffin said, simply. As we are meant to be.
And suddenly, Rory knew exactly what he had to do.
“Uh oh,” Blaise muttered, staring up at his face. “I know that look. I’m not going to like this, am I?”
“No,” he said, his smile widening as he realized how perfect it was. “You really aren’t.”
Chapter 6
“And so this is the transceiver, and this is the control board, and this,” Edith leaned back in her chair with a frustrated sigh, “is completely and utterly busted.”
Fenrir examined the dismantled radio as intently as if it were a dismembered rabbit. “Woof,” he agreed.
“Thanks for the second opinion.” Edith scratched behind his pointed ears. “You’re good company. Most people would have told me to shut up hours ago.”
Fenrir leaned into her fingers as she found the good spot. His tail thumped against the bare floor boards.
“I wish people had tails,” she muttered. “It would make things a lot easier if I only had to watch their backsides.”
Fenrir’s tongue lolled out. He pressed against her even harder, nearly knocking her out of her chair.
“Careful, big guy.” She dug her fingers into his black ruff, feeling the hard muscles under the thick fur. “You really are huge. What the heck is your boss feeding you?”
He rested his broad muzzle on her thigh, copper eyes rolling mournfully upward. Not enough, she could practically hear him saying.
“I’ll find you a snack in a minute, once I’ve dealt with this.” Giving Fenrir a last pat, she started clearing up the radio parts. “Wonder if I’d be allowed to keep a dog in the tower. Want a change of career, big guy?”
Fenrir made one of his deep huffing noises, more snort than bark. He shook himself with a jingle of harness.
“No, suppose not. If I had your job, I wouldn’t want to change either.” She sighed again. “And there might not be a job here for anyone.”
The radio wasn’t the only piece of equipment to have been fried by the lightning. She’d managed to get the generator back up and running, so she at least had electric lights, but everything electronic was completely dead.
She’d started repairs filled with fiery indignation, determined to prove to Rory that she was competent. Now, however, not managing to impress the hotshot squad boss was the least of her concerns. Dread lay in her stomach like a rock.
No communications, no weather sensors, no data logging system. Of course, she still had her firewatcher—which only needed her own eyes to function—but what good was that without any way to make reports?
The tower could be out of action for the entire summer. And new equipment would be expensive. What if the Forest Service decided not to repair the lookout tower at all?
Fenrir whined. Edith found that she was rocking in short jerks. She took a deep breath, forcing herself into a more soothing rhythm. Gradually, her racing heart slowed.
“The tower will get fixed,” she said. “It’ll be all right. Soon everything will be back to normal.”
Fenrir’s whole body stiffened, his head turning. He trotted over to the east window, nails clicking on the floor, and uttered a sharp bark.
“What is it?” She peered out the window herself. “Oh! They’re back.”
She could just about make out the hotshot crew’s yellow jackets through the darkening twilight. They’d regrouped at their transport, discarding helmets and backpacks in a pile by the rear doors. Even at distance, she could see the easy way the squad worked together, moving in practiced unison to load equipment back into the truck.
A stab of longing went through her. She pressed her hand against the glass, imagining for a moment that she was down there. Tired and laughing, aching in every muscle but filled with the glow of victory…
She shook herself free from the stupid daydream. “They must be finished. Well, it was nice having your company for one day at least, big guy. Looks like you’re heading back to your home base now.”
Fenrir yawned extravagantly, lay down, and put his head on his front paws.
“A whole day listening to me babble, and now you want to go to sleep? Come on, Fenrir. You don’t want them to go without you.” She crouched down to tug at his harness. She might as well have tried to drag the entire lookout tower. “I have to take you back to your boss. Much as I’d like to keep you myself.”
A deep chuckle floated from behind her. “Trying to steal my crew away from me?”
Edith jumped, whirling round so fast she nearly lost her balance. Rory leaned against the shattered remnants of the door, smiling at her.
At the sight of him, she did lose her balance. Her backside connected hard with the floor as her jaw dropped.
He’d been impressive enough in bulky, shapeless turn outs. Now, out of the concealing shroud of the protective jacket, he was revealed as a downright masterpiece.
The doorway framed him like a work of art. A black crew tee with the Thunder Mountain Hotshots logo clung to every line of his broad torso, leaving nothing to the imagination. A light sheen of sweat highlighte
d the swelling curves of his folded arms. His warm golden tan perfectly complemented the tawny shade of his hair and the deeper amber of his eyes.
He’d left his safety pants on, but pulled the suspenders off his shoulders. The straps hung down around his thighs, pointing like arrows to the parts of him still tantalizingly hidden by the thick fire-resistant fabric. The top button of his pants winked at her, begging to be undone…
Fenrir made one of his deep, huffing laugh-barks. Rory jumped, straightening from his easy pose. He glared at the dog.
“I am not flexing,” he said.
Edith tore her eyes away guiltily. Had her lust been printed that obviously on her face?
“I-I wasn’t going to ask you to,” she stuttered. She managed to clamp her mouth shut before though if you wanted to, I wouldn’t mind slipped out.
“No, I wasn’t talking to—argh.” Rory scrubbed a hand over his face, leaving sooty smudges. “And here I meant to impress you with my dazzling competence and professionalism. Look, can I rewind and try again?”
She let out a breath of pained amusement, recognizing that feeling. “Sure, as long as I can.”
True to his word, he walked backward, disappearing out the door again. A beat, and then he strode confidently back into view.
“Hello again Edith,” he said, dropping his voice into exaggeratedly serious tones. “As a qualified, competent professional, I’ve come to report that the fire is under control now.”
His playfulness surprised a giggle out of her. “I would try to act like a competent, qualified professional too, but I’m still flat on my butt on the floor.”
“Ah. Fortunately, as a trained firefighter, I am fully qualified and competent in search and rescue operations.” He leaned over to offer her a hand up. “See? Already found you.”
He’d taken his gloves off along with his gear. She could touch him, skin to skin…brush her lips against that broad, callused palm, inhaling his scent…