Wildfire Shifters: Collection 1

by Zoe Chant

  He’d handed her a small fortune and walked off.

  It was either the world’s weirdest con, or he was very, very drunk.

  Or…

  He’d been serious.

  “And now it’s the one you’ve been waiting for!” the hostess announced, flourishing a hand like a magician revealing a trick. “Our final bachelor for sale, the poster boy himself…Stallion!”

  Stallion? Diana covered her mouth, fighting down a giggle as the red-haired firefighter sauntered onto the stage. All of the men had been auctioned off under fake names—she presumed to protect their real identities—but this one was the most ridiculous yet. She wondered if he’d picked it himself.

  Sal squealed, bouncing up and down. “Omigod! Omigod! Di, it’s him! Get ready!”

  “I told you already! I’m not bidding on him!”

  She had to yell into her friend’s ear over the screams of the crowd. The audience had been enthusiastically lecherous throughout the auction, but Stallion’s appearance had sent them into new heights of frenzy.

  A bra came sailing out of the throng. Stallion caught it neatly, winked, and draped it around his neck like a scarf. He strutted around, abs flexing, playing shamelessly to his audience. It was hard to reconcile this cocky, flirty man with the one that she’d met behind the potted plants.

  “You have to bid on him,” Sal shouted back at her. “He even gave you the money!”

  “It’s probably counterfeit! Or stolen! Or this is a really weird money laundering scam!”

  Her friend gave her an exasperated look. “So what are you going to do? Keep it?”

  Diana had no intention of keeping it. She was uncomfortably aware of the thick roll of bills, stuffed into the bottom of her purse. She’d counted it in the bathroom, and discovered that her initial estimate had been way off.

  He’d handed her five thousand dollars. On the basis of one short conversation.

  No one in their right mind did that. Not with good intentions. She kept expecting a cop to crash through the door and arrest her.

  I’ll just give it back to him after this is all over, she vowed. Whatever was going on, it was way too weird for her.

  The bidding was fast and furious. Most of the previous guys had raised a few hundred dollars each, but Stallion had already passed five hundred, with no sign of the auction slowing down.

  “Six hundred!”

  “Seven hundred!”

  “Seven fifty!”

  “One thousand dollars!” screamed the woman who’d thrown the bra. She looked on the verge of ripping off the rest of her clothes and having her way with the firefighter right there on stage.

  Diana glanced at Stallion. He was still posing and flexing, putting on a show for the crowd. But she remembered how nervous he’d looked right before the auction had started, how he’d admitted he regretted having volunteered for the gig. No matter how well he was faking it now, she knew that he didn’t want to be up on that stage.

  He’d trusted her to save him.

  Also, the four large cocktails Sal had forced on her whispered, he’s really, really hot.

  She raised her paddle. “Five thousand dollars.”

  She regretted it immediately. She shrank back as every face turned toward her. Even Stallion seemed surprised that she’d actually gone through with it.

  “Goingoncegoingtwicesold!” the auction hostess said all in one breath, as though worried Diana might change her mind. “Sold to the lucky lady in the green dress! Let’s hear it for our very generous benefactor!”

  Sal whooped, pumping her fist into the air, as applause broke out all around them. “Yes! I can’t believe you actually did that, Diana!”

  Neither could she. Cheers and whoops rang in her ears. She’d expected death-glares from the women that she’d beaten, but looking around, all she could see were smiling faces. Sure, there were some envious glances mixed in, but on the whole everyone seemed genuinely delighted by the unexpected drama she’d provided.

  Stallion cut through the crowd, grinning broadly. His wide, oiled chest filled her field of view as he bent over her.

  “Personally, I would have just kept the cash,” he murmured into her ear, as hoots and catcalls rang out around them. He drew back a little, studying her face. That strange, thoughtful expression flicked across his own again. “Huh. There is something about you.”

  Then he grinned, all seriousness chased away by playful wickedness. “Well, my goddess-for-an-evening. Looks like I owe you five thousand dollars of laughter and fun, huh? Fabulous. I do like a challenge.”

  Before she could utter so much of a squeak of protest, he scooped her up in a fireman’s hold. She clutched at his oil-slick shoulder, head spinning, feeling like she’d been turned clean upside-down. The crowd cat-called and hooted even louder.

  “It was your money,” she protested as he carried her to the dance floor. Other couples were following, as the other firefighters also swept up their giggling auction winners. “You bought yourself.”

  “I’m more of a gift, really. Or an apology. It’s complicated.” He shifted his grip, letting her slide down his body. “Anyway, you can’t just walk off and leave me here on my own. It’ll look terrible if you abandon me thirty seconds into our date. My boss already thinks I’m an awful reprobate. Dance with me, my goddess. For the sake of my mid-year review.”

  He was so ridiculous, she couldn’t help laughing even as she shook her head. “I don’t dance. I don’t do this sort of thing. This isn’t me at all.”

  “Then be someone different for a little while,” he suggested. “Someone who does dance, who walks with her head held high and a swing to her hips, without a care in the world. Just for a little while, my goddess-for-an-evening.”

  “My name is—” she started.

  He put a finger across her lips, silencing her. “Don’t tell me. I’m not supposed to tell you mine, after all. And it’s fun to take a break from being yourself sometimes. So you call me Stallion, and I’ll call you my goddess and worship you as you deserve. Be someone else with me. Please. Just for one night.”

  That mad, not-like-her-at-all impulse bubbled up again. She put her arms around his bare neck, for once letting go of all worry. “Okay, Stallion. You win. Just for one night.”

  After all, she thought, what harm could it do?

  Chapter 9

  “And, well, one thing led to another,” Diana concluded. Callum’s shifter-sharp hearing let him pick up every word, as clearly as if he was still sitting next to her. “Which nine months later, led to Beth.”

  “Wow. And I thought that I’d had some wild nights out.” Joe sounded impressed.

  Callum gave Blaise a mental nudge. *Still not enough details. Ask her what she remembers about the actual night.*

  Blaise shot him an appalled glance across the hall. *I am not quizzing your mate for details about her sex life. Ask her yourself.*

  Edith, with her typical bluntness, saved him from having to think of a way to do that. “So he took you up to his room, but didn’t stick around in the morning?”

  “I didn’t stick around,” Diana replied. “And please don’t think that he took advantage of me. At the end of the evening, I helped him up to his hotel room because he was clearly out of it. And then I was the one who stupidly decided to turn around and knock on his door again instead of going home. When I woke up the next morning, I was so mortified that I fled before he opened his eyes. And it wasn’t until much later that I found out that my birth control had failed. Don’t think badly of Callum. None of it was his fault.”

  “Oh, we’re not blaming Callum,” Blaise muttered.

  Callum was blaming himself. He’d been mentally kicking himself all through Diana’s story. His suspicion had been correct. He and Diana had both been at the same hotel that night, along with his two brothers.

  It had been yet another of their ‘hilarious’ practical jokes. Connor had signed him up to the bachelor auction, and had even impersonated him at the publi
city photoshoot beforehand, so that ‘his’ image would be plastered all over the posters. Then Conleth had pretended that there was an urgent family crisis in Los Angeles to lure him to the hotel.

  He’d dropped everything and rushed over, expecting to find his mother sick and in need of his help…only to discover that he was supposed to be stripping off and oiling up for charity.

  Trying to explain to the event organizers that he was one of a set of absolutely identical triplets and this was all a set-up…hadn’t gone well. He’d come perilously close to just giving up and agreeing to go through with it. Now he wished that he had gone through with it. Then Diana would have met him that evening.

  But he hadn’t, and apparently Connor or Conleth had ended up taking his place while he’d been fuming in his hotel room. Callum was slightly surprised by that. He guessed they must have been caught by one of the terrifying ladies on the charity committee and forced to participate.

  At any other time, Callum would have taken deep satisfaction in their practical joke backfiring like that. But as it turned out, one of them might have had the last laugh.

  And he still didn’t know which one.

  Connor was genuinely a firefighter—he was a smokejumper on an Alaskan crew. But he couldn’t imagine his cocky, wild brother noticing a shy woman behind a pot plant at a party. Let alone handing her five thousand dollars to bid on him.

  That sounded more like Conleth. The suave, sophisticated businessman certainly had money to burn. But then, he couldn’t picture Conleth ever strutting half-naked across a stage in front of a crowd of drunken, screaming women.

  Unless…they’d been tag-teaming all night.

  It wouldn’t be the first time they’d impersonated each other. Ever since they’d been kids, they’d delighted in fooling people. Of course, most of the time they’d pretended to be him, in order to get him into trouble.

  In any event, he was certain that they’d both be able to convince Diana that they were a single individual. Which meant either one of them could have taken her to bed at the end, with her never suspecting a thing.

  Callum clenched his teeth at the thought, a deep, boiling rage building in his chest. It was one thing for them to try to humiliate him. To play such a despicable prank on any woman, let alone his mate…it was beyond unforgivable.

  Beth’s little legs kicked in protest. He realized that he’d tensed his arms around her. He made himself relax again, rocking her until she fell back into peaceful slumber.

  Of course, there was still the third option, unlikely as it was. He had been there. Diana might have come into his room that night by accident, thinking he was Connor or Conleth. But it was only the tiniest thread of hope. In all likelihood, he wasn’t Beth’s father.

  We are, his pegasus insisted.

  How can that be, if we don’t even remember meeting Diana? he asked his inner animal. How do you know?

  His pegasus rippled its hide in an equine shrug. Our mate. Our foal. Ours now. Nothing else matters.

  “So now that I’ve told you all my embarrassing story, I think it’s only fair that you should share some in return.” Diana’s voice jerked him out of his introspection. “Tell me about Callum. You must have some good tales about him, since you’ve all been friends for so long.”

  That was his cue. Callum strode back to the table, at slightly less than a run.

  “It’s getting late,” he said, just in time. He glared at Joe, who was opening his mouth. “If you’ve finished eating, Diana, we should get you and Beth settled into the cabin.”

  Joe pouted, but subsided.

  “I am getting tired,” Diana admitted. She rose, smiling around at everyone. “It was nice to meet you all. I hope we can continue this conversation tomorrow.”

  Callum fully intended to do everything in his power to prevent that from happening. He steered Diana away, as fast as he could without bodily carrying her.

  “Here, give her to me.” Diana took Beth back from him. Her voice dropped into a loving, maternal croon as she snuggled their daughter. “Hi baby. Were you good for Daddy?”

  His heart seemed to spontaneously grow three sizes. No accolade, no award or title, could ever compare to the honor of that name.

  Callum tried not to show how much that simple word had moved him. “May I take a picture of you?”

  “What, right now?” She touched her glossy black hair self-consciously. “Like this?”

  How could she think there was something wrong with the way she looked? “Yes. I want to capture this moment. Please.”

  A slight blush colored her cheeks. “All right.”

  Callum did want to capture the moment—his mate holding their daughter, the golden rays of the setting sun bringing out the rich tones of her skin, crowning her with light—but he had an ulterior motive too. Pulling out his cellphone, he snapped two quick pictures.

  The first one was for him. The second, for the plan that was coming together in his head.

  “Thank you,” he said, pocketing his phone again. He gestured her onward, toward his cabin. “I hope this is okay for tonight. I can do better tomorrow, with more time.”

  “I’m sure this will be fine.” Despite Diana’s words, her expression betrayed a hint of doubt as she eyed up the small, rustic log building. She opened the door, going in.

  Callum didn’t get any warning. One moment there were only two life-forces in the immediate vicinity—Diana and Beth—and the next, a third blazed in his senses, appearing out of nowhere in the middle of the cabin. Simultaneously, Diana’s scream split the air.

  He was through the door and between his mate and the interloper in a heartbeat. His pegasus surged up, ready to fight—and then he realized who the intruder was.

  “It’s all right,” he said, straightening. “It’s just Fenrir.”

  The hellhound was plastered to the floor in full submission, looking like a very large bear skin rug. Diana had her back pressed into a corner. She clutched at Beth, instinctively shielding the baby with her own body.

  “That’s Fenrir?” she said in a high, breathless squeak. “I thought he was a firefighter!”

  *Am,* Fenrir said in his head.

  From Diana’s complete lack of reaction, she couldn’t hear the hellhound’s telepathic voice. Most humans couldn’t. Fenrir wouldn’t be able to communicate with her until she was both aware of his true nature, and become friends with him.

  Which, from the way things were going so far, would be never.

  “He is on the crew,” Callum said. He fixed the contrite hellhound with a glare. “He’s a service dog. He’s very obedient. Usually.”

  Fenrir whined like a puppy. His copper eyes stayed fixed yearningly on Beth. *Just wanted to see pack’s first cub.*

  “He’s completely harmless.” Callum normally respected Fenrir’s personal space as much as if the shifter was in human form, but he had to show Diana that there was nothing to fear from the hellhound. He leaned down to ruffle Fenrir’s ears, simultaneously sending him a mental Sorry. “See? You can trust him. And he’s an excellent guard dog.”

  Diana pressed her back further into the corner. “I’m sure he is, but I’m really not comfortable with him being in the same room as Beth. Look at how he’s staring at her.”

  “That’s just because he loves babies. He only wants to get to know you both.” He stood up, reaching for her hand. “Here. Stroke him. Let him get your scent.”

  Diana jerked her hand away. Her voice was still high and tight. “I—I really don’t like dogs.”

  Fenrir whimpered. He flattened himself even further to the ground, as though attempting to make himself as small and harmless-looking as possible. Given that even in this form—which was half his true size—he would have dwarfed a Great Dane, this was not terribly successful.

  “Don’t worry. He won’t come near you again.” Callum held the door open. “Fenrir, out.”

  Fenrir’s pointed ears drooped. Reluctantly, belly flat to the ground, he inched toward th
e door. *Understand. Nursing bitches always guard young fiercely, snap at any who get too close. But takes whole pack to raise strong pups. Tell Sky Bitch that.*

  Sky Bitch? Callum blinked, wondering what had made Fenrir pick that one. The hellhound usually had very good reasons for the nicknames that he gave people. Even if they weren’t always obvious.

  This wasn’t the moment to quiz him on it, though. He closed the door, shutting Fenrir out. He could sense that the hellhound didn’t go far—just round the corner of the next cabin—but at least it was far enough that Diana wouldn’t catch sight of him if she glanced out the window.

  Diana let out a shaky breath, easing away from the wall. “I’m sorry. I’m sure he’s a lovely dog. It’s just that I had a bad experience when I was seven. A feral pack chased me and my mother while we were on a camping vacation. I was too young to properly remember it, but sometimes I still get nightmares of all these snarling teeth, and my mother standing between me and them. Somehow she managed to fight them off with her bare hands.”

  “She sounds like quite a woman.”

  Like you, Callum nearly added. He bit back the words. The less he spoke, the better. He’d never been able to tell the difference between a perfectly reasonable comment, and one that would make everyone stare at him and then awkwardly change the subject.

  “She was.” Diana looked down at Beth, her hair swinging forward to hide her face. “She passed away when I was eight, a year after the dog incident. She was a civil engineer, specializing in eco-friendly developments for tribal reservations, so she was away from home a lot. She was at a special gathering of Oglala Lakota leaders, talking about a new project, and…there was an accident. A fire. Nearly everyone there died. The police never caught the person who did it.”

  Callum wanted to put his arms around her. He wanted to tell her that she wasn’t alone anymore. He wanted to stroke her hair and ask her more about her family; learn her sorrows and her joys, everything that had made her her.

  Instead, he stood there. He couldn’t find anything to do with his hands.