by Zoe Chant
Candice hurled herself onto his back with a speed that would have done credit to a circus acrobat, Flash in her arms. The second her hands clutched his mane he was off, going from a standing start to a full gallop in an instant. Even so, he felt the Nightmare’s teeth snap shut just behind his fetlocks, so close it shaved an inch from his silky fur.
*Hold on!* He jinked aside as another black bolt crackled harmlessly past his shoulder. Then he was running, harder than he ever had in his life, back the way they’d come.
“The horses!” Candice screamed in his ear. She was flat against his neck, holding on to both him and the unconscious Flash for dear life. “We can’t leave them!”
*It’s not them the Nightmare wants.* Sure enough, the monster was racing after them, flicking in and out of his peripheral vision. *They’ll be safer without us.*
He felt Candice twist around, risking a backward glance. Her knees clenched on his laboring sides. “It’s catching up!”
He was grimly aware of that fact. Although it was smaller than him, the Nightmare was faster. Not by much—but enough. Inch by inch, it was closing the distance.
At least it’s stopped shooting at us. As he’d hoped, some lingering maternal instinct meant that the Nightmare wasn’t willing to risk harming her own child. As long as Candice held Flash, they were safe from the Nightmare’s death-blasts.
He pushed himself even harder, lungs burning in his chest. We killed the last one of these, even though it took the whole squad. If I can just get back to the others…
*Rory!* he flung out, but the echo told him that his mental call had gone unheard. They were too far away for him to be able to reach. And if they were out of range for telepathy, they’d be out of range of Callum’s senses too. He had a sudden horrible certainty that the Nightmare had been lurking at this location, patiently waiting to spring its trap, for exactly that reason.
It’s smart. It’s swift. It’s strong. His mind raced faster than his hooves, searching for a way out. But it’s not invincible. There has to be something it fears…
“Wystan!” Candice’s knees clenched on his laboring sides as he abruptly switched direction. “What are you doing?”
*Trust me!* He plunged into the forest, branches whipping past his head. *And hold on!*
The Nightmare had been caught off-guard by his change of course. He clawed back precious distance, recklessly charging between tree trunks at top speed. As he flashed over the ground, he flared his nostrils, tasting the air.
There!
He swerved again, running directly into the wind. His horn cut through smoke. As his hooves devoured the miles, the acrid clouds grew thicker, roiling in his wake in great curling billows.
His breath rasped in his throat. He sucked oxygen out of the air by sheer willpower. If he started choking, they were all dead.
Candice gasped. Physically close like this, he could feel the way her pulse spiked, panic leaping through her veins. “Wystan!”
She wasn’t looking back at the Nightmare…but at what lay ahead of them.
The wildfire rose like an orange wall. Whole trees blazed, alight from root to crown. Wind fanned the firestorm, sending it leaping through the canopy with terrifying speed.
In the face of that deadly force, the Nightmare faltered. It pranced to a halt as though an invisible rider had reined it in, neck arching. Wystan slewed around to face it, horn lowered and ready. Its knife-point feet danced a staccato rhythm, but it didn’t advance.
Heat beat against his hindquarters. He could feel Candice shaking like a leaf on his back, face buried in his mane. He held steady, eyes locked on the Nightmare, and waited.
The wind blew a flurry of embers between them. The Nightmare flinched, hissing. It took a quick, darting step backward, and halted, trembling. It seemed to be fighting a battle with itself, torn between equally strong instincts.
With a crack, a burning branch dropped from the canopy, landing mere feet away. The Nightmare broke at last. With a final hate-filled glare, it turned tail and fled.
“Run!” Candice kicked frantically at his sides. “Hurry, go, now!”
He shifted instead, catching her as she tumbled off his back. “It’s too late for that. I can’t outrun the fire, not when I’m already half-exhausted.”
Candice clutched the unconscious Flash to her chest, her breathing fast and panicked. He didn’t have time to reassure her. Thrusting her aside, he threw off his pack.
He’d picked the clearest spot of ground he could find for his stand. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do. Dropping to his knees next to his pack, he scraped a shallow pit in the dirt, drawing on all his shifter speed and strength.
“Here.” He tugged Candice down as he reached for his pack. In his mind, he showed her exactly how to lie in the dirt, her face turned into small depression. “Like this. No matter what, don’t move.”
Her eyes were huge in her bloodless face, but she obeyed, hugging Flash tight against her prone body. He was already standing, his hands moving swiftly and surely, knowing what to do without conscious thought thanks to endless drills.
He shook out the fire shelter. It didn’t look like much—just a large rectangle of crinkly, reflective material. He’d never before had to deploy one for real. It seemed impossible that the flimsy thing could protect them from the deadliest forces of nature, but he had to trust in the engineers and scientists who’d created the hi-tech fabric.
Despite the furnace heat raging at his back, calm filled him. Somehow he just knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Candice would be safe.
He would protect his mate.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said to Candice. He pinned the back edge of the shelter under his boot heels, clamping it tightly against the ground. “I’m with you. Trust me. All will be well.”
Holding the corners of the fire shelter, he dropped forward, arms spread wide. He covered Candice with his body, the fire shelter settling over them both like a blanket. In the tiny, dark, airless space, he held her tight—in his arms, in his mind, in his heart.
And the wildfire enveloped them.
Chapter 20
“Candice,” Wystan said from outside the horse stall. He leaned his forearms on the low half-door, exhaustion and concern showing in his dirt-streaked face. “Stop. You have to get some rest.”
Candice didn’t pause in brushing out Princess’s mane. “I just want to get these burrs out. She’s been through so much today, she deserves to be comfortable.”
“So do you.” Wystan unlatched the door, slipping inside. Princess made a soft, sleepy sound of welcome, but didn’t lift her head. “Look, she’s half-asleep already. All the horses are. There’s nothing more you need to do for them.”
Candice fixed her eyes on the curry comb, moving it in steady, slow sweeps. The rich, earthy smells of the stable surrounded her—horses and straw, oats and leather.
No hint of smoke. No acrid bite of burning debris choking her throat. No crackle of flames or searing heat. Just the gentle, reassuring sound of Princess’s slow breathing, and the soft warmth of her flank.
“Ah.” She felt Wystan move to her side. She thought he was going to try to forcibly wrest the brush away from her, but he just ran his own fingers through Princess’s grey mane, untangling a stubborn knot. “This is more for you than her, isn’t it?”
Candice followed his hand with the brush, so that Princess’s mane fell in silky-smooth strands. “You swore that you couldn’t read my thoughts, bud.”
“I can’t. Not unless you show them to me.” He picked out a twig from Princess’s mane, flicking it away. “But I do have eyes.”
Well, he’s partly equine. Horses were exquisitely sensitive to body language, Candice knew. It was one of the reasons she liked working with them so much. Horses made you be calm and quiet.
Right now, she really needed that.
Wystan didn’t make any further attempt to persuade her to stop. He just worked quietly at her side, untangling and grooming,
every movement in perfect harmony with her own. Gradually, Candice’s tension ebbed away. The deep, companionable silence supported her like a warm bath, gentle and undemanding.
“Okay,” she said at last, stepping back to survey their handiwork. Princess’s coat gleamed like polished silver in the dim light of the stable. The mare was dozing on her feet, every muscle relaxed. “I’m done now.”
Wystan held the door open for her, his face half-hidden in shadow. Only a single flickering bulb illuminated the stable. Soft snorts and rustles drifted from the darkness, horses stirring in their sleep. She paced down the crowded stalls, doing one last check on them all.
She was grateful that none of the horses had come to any harm during their mad flight. With Callum’s help, they’d been able to round up the scattered herd without too much difficulty, bringing them all to this safe haven.
Flash lay sleeping in the last stall, snuggled against Fenrir’s coal-black body. The hellhound lifted his head as she peered over the door. His tail swept through the straw in a wag of acknowledgement.
*Sun Bitch,* Fenrir’s deep, not-quite-human voice said in her mind. *Am here. Be at ease.*
A spark of red light gleamed deep in his eyes. She remembered her glimpse of his true form, fire dripping from his jaws. He’d seemed huge and invincible…but the Nightmare had taken him out before.
*Was surprised,* Fenrir growled, and she realized she’d accidentally broadcast her worry to him. *Not again. Go, Sun Bitch. Sleep deep. Pack guards pack.*
“You’re sure Rory and the others will spot the Nightmare if it comes back?” she said to Wystan as she flicked the light off.
He nodded, taking her arm to escort her out of the stable. “Even with Callum resting, nothing is going to get past Rory. He can see in the dark better than a lion, and with the acuity of an eagle. He’s flying sweeps around the whole ranch. Look.”
Candice glanced up as they stepped outside. Even this far from the wildfire, the night sky was still hazed with smoke, shrouding the stars. Nonetheless, she just about made out a broad-winged, black-on-black silhouette sweep silently over their heads. Unlike Happy Hooves, the land around this ranch was all open paddocks. There wasn’t any cover that the Nightmare could use to evade the griffin shifter’s watchful eyes.
“Guess we’re as safe as we can be,” she conceded. She rubbed at her face, the long day finally catching up with her. “Where can I crash?”
“The house is all full, I’m afraid,” Wystan said, gesturing at the dark building across the stable yard. The ranch had thrown open its doors to evacuees from the wildfire, and now cars and pickup trucks were parked haphazardly all along the drive. “I could set up one of our crew tents for you.”
The thought of crawling into yet another small, dark space made Candice shudder. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
Wystan’s hand tightened for a moment on her elbow; a swift, understanding squeeze. “I thought you might say that. Come with me.”
He led her around the side of the stables, where a wooden ladder led up to a small open hatch. Climbing up, Candice found herself in a high-beamed hayloft. Someone—presumably Wystan—had rearranged the stacked bales to make enough room to lie down. A bedroll and blankets lay invitingly across a deep mound of hay, next to a bottle of water.
Wystan’s white head appeared in the hatch. “It’s not luxurious, but I suspected you might prefer this to a tent tonight.”
“It’s perfect.” The warmth of the stables filled the hayloft. She sank down onto the makeshift bed with a sigh of relief. “Thanks.”
He nodded, still perched on the ladder. “If there’s anything else you need, I’m just a thought away.”
Almost, she let him go. But as he started to disappear back down the ladder, her precarious calm slipped as well. All the things she’d been trying not to think about—the Nightmare, the fire—threatened to burst into her mind.
“Wystan!” She scrabbled on hands and knees to catch his shoulder. “Please. Stay. I…I don’t want to be alone.”
He hesitated, then pulled himself up. Without a word, he pulled her into his arms, settling her against his chest. She closed her eyes, gratefully listening to the strong, steady beat of his heart. Gradually her own slowed.
When he spoke, his voice was so soft she more felt than heard it. “I’m sorry.”
She raised her head enough to see his profile. “What for?”
“Today.” He was staring out the open hatch rather than looking down at her. His eyes were haunted, fixed on something other than the horizon. “It didn’t occur to me that I was forcing you to relive a traumatic experience. I should never have taken you anywhere near the wildfire. I should have found a different way out.”
“Hey.” She poked him in the side. “I’m a tough cookie. I can’t say it was fun, but I’m okay. And we didn’t have a lot of options. Your quick thinking saved us.”
“I wasn’t thinking at all,” he said harshly. “I acted on pure instinct. I felt so sure of myself at the time, but…” He shook his head, jaw clenching. “I took an appalling risk.”
She tightened her arms around him. “It worked, though.”
“This time.” He fell silent for a long moment. His muscles were rock-hard under her cheek, wound tight. “I don’t know how to keep you and Flash safe. Not long term. The squad can’t guard you both forever.”
“Forget forever.” She traced a line down his torso. “We’re here, now. We’re alive. Can’t that be enough?”
He caught her hand under his as she sought to go lower, flattening her palm against his taut abdomen. “Candice—“
“We could have died today.” She hooked a leg over his. His breath caught as she straddled his lap, pushing herself up so that they were face to face. “The Nightmare could eat us tomorrow. We could get caught in another wildfire. We could just be really unlucky crossing the street. You can’t ensure that I’m perfectly safe forever, Wystan. Nobody could do that. But we’re together now. And I for one would be really pissed to get hit by a cement truck before I found out what you look like naked.”
His hands fisted, as though he was having to physically hold himself back from touching her. “Candice…you know I can’t do casual.”
“I know. And I can’t promise you forever.” She shifted her hips, pressing against him, and he made a low, strangled sound of pure need. “But damn it, there has to be something between a one night stand and eternal devotion. Can we…try to find it? Meet each other halfway?”
His hands slid up her thighs. She gasped as he gripped her hips, grinding her yearning core against his hardness. His mouth sought hers in the darkness. Tipping her head back, Candice gratefully surrendered to the wave of pleasure, letting go of everything else.
Then Wystan drew back a little. She let out a small sound of protest, struggling to reclaim his lips, but his arms were like iron bars, holding her away.
“Candice.” Her name sounded torn from his chest, his breathing ragged. He leaned his forehead against hers, eyes tight closed as though he wouldn’t be able to restrain himself if he looked at her. “You know I’m a virgin.”
She had to concede that a sweaty encounter in a prickly hayloft might not have been how he’d pictured his first time. “We don’t have to go that far. We could still enjoy each other, even if you don’t want to—“
“I do want to.” He opened his eyes again, desire clear in their dark depths. His mouth quirked in a pained smile. “But first, I need to tell you something about unicorns.”
Chapter 21
It took some time.
When he finally wound down, Candice just stared at him.
“I’m sorry,” he said yet again. “I’m aware it’s…inconvenient.”
“Inconvenient?” Candice repeated, her voice cracking with incredulity. “Wystan, you just told me that if I have sex with you, I’ll kill you!”
“Not me, precisely. Just my animal.”
“Oh, well, that’s okay then,” Candice said, drippin
g sarcasm. “I’ll just rip apart your soul and destroy the core of your identity. I’m sure that won’t do you any harm whatsoever.”
“You won’t hurt me,” he said firmly. “Candice. I told you because I couldn’t go to your bed with secrets between us. But now you know.”
He tried to reach for her again, but she scooted back as though his unicorn might keel over at the slightest touch. “Are you crazy? You think you can tell me, tell me that if I don’t love you enough then I’ll doom you to a fate worse than death, and expect me to just nod my head and carry on? This is dangerous, Wystan! We can’t risk it!”
His whole body yearned for her, but he forced himself to drop his hand. “I understand your concerns. And I appreciate that you may need some time to reflect, and determine if you are ready for this step. I’ve waited a long time. I can wait a little longer.”
She bit her lip. Her shoulders were hunched, arms hugging her own torso tightly as though she was trying to hide from him. Every line of her body shouted no, no, no. “Wystan…you were straight with me, so I want to be straight with you. I need to show you something.”
She sat back on her heels, straightening her spine. Her hands went to the top button of her shirt. Her eyes were wide and dark, vulnerable in the dim light.
He drew in a sharp breath as she started undoing her shirt. “Candice, if you’re trying to dissuade me, I have to tell you that this is a very poor way to go about it.”
She gave him a wavering half-smile, her hands never pausing. “Just stay over there, okay?”
She turned her back on him, letting her shirt slip off her shoulders. Her left was smooth and rounded, faintly tanned. But her right…
He hadn’t realized how far her scarring extended. The whole right side of her body was a map of survived pain. The reddened, shiny burn scars ran from her neck to below her waist, a silent testament to her strength and tenacity.
“I was seventeen,” Candice said in a low voice. “Seventeen, and so, so dumb. I grew up in care homes, you see. Not good ones. I was so hungry, so desperate for any hint of real affection. And…there was this guy. Of course. The first guy who ever noticed me.”