Feline the Heat (The Firehouse Feline Book 1)

by L. A. Boruff

  "If you aren’t in trouble, it shouldn’t matter."

  She’s not going to let this go.

  My eyes squeeze shut. "I’m only going to tell you this because I think you’re going to get yourself killed if I don’t."

  "Okay..."

  I open my eyes and try to force out the words without emotion. "Everywhere in the world, there are people with power and people without it. In this town, the people with power rule. And when you piss them off, they destroy you. There was a woman I-there was a woman I cared for. She got involved with them, and she turned up dead. No one could prove they did it, but they did. You need to stop treating this like it’s a game."

  "I’m sorry about the woman," she says. "But I’m not treating this like a game. It’s important to me."

  "Why?" I ask, and I truly want to know.

  "It’s personal," she says. "But finding out the secrets in this town is what I need, and I’m not stopping until I do."

  I stare at her for a long minute. "Fine, but keep your distance from me. You don’t need a mark on your back before you’ve even figured things out."

  She nods.

  "How sweet."

  We both whirl toward the entrance to the alley. The three warlocks stand there, blocking our escape. My stomach twists, and I look to Callie. No matter what happens, she needs to be safe. Nothing else matters.

  "Fellas," I greet, trying to sound casual. "What brings you out into the light of day?"

  Paul, their leader, is a hulking man with long blond hair and dark eyes. He’s also got a cruel streak in him that would make most evil people flinch in fear.

  A sadistic smile creeps across his face. "We were sent to find you. Your presence has been requested for a little chat."

  Normally, I’d refuse. I’d insult them. I’d get into a little fight before I ultimately lost. But right now, I want to get them as far from Callie as I can.

  "Sounds nice. I assume there will be coffee? Maybe some sweets?" I start toward them, trying to keep their focus on me.

  Paul regards me suspiciously. "You’re going to come with us without a fight?"

  I answer smoothly. "Why not? I have a few things I’d like to say to your bosses anyway." Reaching them, I force a smile. "Lead away!"

  His lackeys start to move, but Paul’s gaze flicks to Callie. "She can come, too."

  My stomach flips. "She has nothing to do with this."

  His gaze lands on me, razor-sharp. Fuck, can he tell the idea upsets me?

  "She’s coming with us. To make sure you behave."

  "No," I say.

  The warlock takes a step toward her.

  With one hand, I grasp him by the shirt. "Have you ever seen someone burned alive?"

  Paul’s face goes pale. "You wouldn’t. They’d destroy you."

  "Have you ever heard them screaming? Have you ever smelled their burning flesh?" My gaze bores into his eyes. He’s not sure if I’d do it.

  He takes a long minute to answer. "You have to understand that threatening me seals your fate."

  I smile, even though I know he speaks the truth. "Do I look scared?"

  He looks to his lackeys. "He comes with us. The woman stays here."

  I release his sleeve. "Let’s go." And let’s get far from here.

  "No," Callie says behind me.

  Fucking hell!

  Turning around, I glare at her. "Go find something else to do!"

  She struts up to us. "I’m coming with him."

  "Watch a fucking show if you’re bored!" I say.

  She tries to walk closer to the guys.

  I grab her arm. "Walk out of here now."

  "Make me," she says, holding my gaze.

  Paul grins, and his voice is filled with a frightening amusement. "It looks like they’re both coming with us."

  Everything inside of me snaps. I leap at Paul as Callie cries out. My fist slams into his nose, and blood spurts. Hands grab at me. Fists pummel into my sides. But I don’t stop, I can’t stop now. I shove Paul onto the ground, jump on top of him, and start beating him with all my might.

  His lackeys pull me off. I act without thinking, striking them, too.

  I take another one of them down. His head hits the concrete with a crack. The third guy and I wrestle around, smashing into the alley walls. My forehead scrapes against the bricks. That might leave a scar.

  And then I hear it: Paul’s cowardly spell.

  In an instant, I’m overwhelmed by pain. Biting down on a scream as my muscles twist and pull, I feel blood leaking from my ears and mouth. Maybe even from my eyes.

  I try to fight it as two of them grab me, and the third guy yanks Callie toward us. But I can’t. The magic is too strong.

  We’re thrown into the back of a car, one of the men squeezing in beside me.

  I can barely move. The pain is begging me to black out, to feel some kind of relief from it. Even though the spell is already wearing off, I can still feel the lingering effects in my bones.

  Callie strokes my face, her voice filled with unshed tears. "What did they do to you? Will, can you hear me?"

  Paul’s voice comes from the front of the car, and I see him use the back of his fist to smear the blood from his nose across his face. "Why do you always have to make this so hard, Will? You might not be one of us, but your soul is as dark. It doesn’t have to be this way."

  Callie speaks, her voice broken. "He’s nothing like you!"

  Paul’s lips curl into an eerie smile. "I might like violence and death, but he’s the one that killed a kid."

  Callie looks to me, a question in her gaze.

  My eyes close. I can’t think about that now. I can’t face that now.

  If I have to go there, there’s no way I’ll be able to face what’s coming next.

  The lackey beside me speaks in a whisper. "If you think that spell was bad, wait and see what they have planned for you. You’ll be begging for death."

  Of that, I have no doubt.

  Chapter Eleven

  Callie

  Paul’s lips tip up into a smile that creeps me the hell out. "I might like violence and death, but he’s the one that killed a kid."

  I look at Will, shocked. He's a lot of things, but I wouldn't peg murderer on him. Besides, my cat likes him, and she hates bad guys. She can smell them a mile away. It kept me safe many times over the years. Which makes it even more stupid that I’m in this situation. These guys reek.

  Will closes his eyes, and his head flops back, but he doesn't deny the accusation.

  The goon beside him whispers something in his ear, and his eyes fly open, hard and furious. Smoke rises from his hands, but then he cuts his eyes at me and sucks in a deep breath.

  He doesn't know I've already seen him flame up.

  Damn it. I was so focused on not letting these assholes take Will that I didn’t think about how coming with him could make things worse. Not only is he worried about using his magic in front of me, but they’re using me to keep him in line.

  I think I screwed up.

  My body shakes as I try to fight the tears and hysteria. If I get too upset, I'll shift. It's happened before. Usually, the cat just takes over whenever she wants to, but I've shifted before in high-stress situations.

  Now isn't the time. Take deep breaths. Be calm and try to make this situation better. My inner scolding calms me, but only slightly. I insisted on coming with Will, so I sure as hell refuse to be a burden to him. Hell or high water, I’m going to get us out of this.

  And I can’t do that if I don’t know exactly what’s going on.

  "Where are you taking us?" I demand, trying to sound confident and not at all scared.

  "It's your lucky day, little girl," the driver says. "You're going to meet the King."

  King? What the hell does that mean?

  I look at Will, hoping for some kind of answer or look of recognition, but the fight’s gone from his eyes. Slowly, he slumps over in my lap, and I stroke his dark hair. The blood has stoppe
d leaking from his eyes and nose, but he looks like he's about to pass out.

  Is he even aware of where we’re going?

  "This never would've happened when his father ruled," Will whispers.

  I stiffen. At least he knows what’s going on, even if I don’t. But that won’t stop me from pulling all the info out of these thugs that I can.

  "We're in the United States." I put all the acid I can into my voice. "There is no King."

  "You're going to learn a lot today," the asshole on the other side of Will says. "Unfortunately for you, you won’t live long enough to enjoy your new-found knowledge."

  "You'll have to kill me first," Will says through clenched teeth.

  "Not a problem." The head asshole, riding in the passenger seat, turns and looks at us. "That's the plan."

  Fuck. If ever shifting into my cat would be helpful, it would be the moment these fuckers turn their back. Please, I know you never listen to me, but if you can shift me as soon as we're left alone, maybe as a cat we can get Will loose.

  She doesn't reply, of course. She never does.

  I’m trying to decide what else I can ask to get information from these idiots when they pull the van into a neighborhood that looks like any other neighborhood. Houses set way too close together, fences, dogs running around. Solidly middle class.

  Not a single thing that looks out of place, or like a ‘king’ would live here. At least we didn’t drive to some freaky, crumbling, haunted-looking house. I think I can handle this.

  Pressing the button on a fob clipped to the visor, the driver turns and pulls into a garage, slowing down long enough for the door to fully open.

  When we pull in, Will sits up unsteadily and scoots closer to me and away from the jerk on the other side. The garage door shuts behind us, shutting us off from the light of the sun and the eyes of the neighbors. Okay. Shouldn't be too hard to break out of a regular house. No big deal.

  Then the wall in front of us shimmers, and my jaw drops. Holy shit. Where is my damn camera when I need it? I couldn't remember where I'd left it.

  The van rolls forward at a creep, and when we pass through what should've been the back wall of the garage, bright sun blinds us.

  What the hell? That made no sense. The day had been overcast.

  I squint against the glare and put a hand over my eyes, then look at Will to see his reaction. He's not shocked at all, but he still looks beyond pissed. I’m hoping that’s a good sign. Because if he looked scared, I think all this magic wouldn’t be quite so interesting.

  "You're going to have a lot to blog about when I get us out of this," he whispers.

  He sounds a little rough from whatever they did to him, but I know he’s trying to keep things light. Something I can appreciate in a situation where death might be around the next corner.

  "When you get us out of it? Well, feel free to rescue us any time," I reply, trying to match his tone.

  "And here I thought you had demanded to come because you wanted to rescue me," he says, a hint of irritation in his voice.

  I try not to look guilty. "Sorry, but I'm not feeling very heroic at the moment."

  His lips curl into a slight smile. "Of course."

  I blink out at the bright world. Are there trees around us?

  "Here," Will says, and there’s amusement in his voice as he runs his fingertips over my eyelids. The initial shock of brightness dims.

  I look out the windows, and the bright light slowly fades away. I realize we're pulling around and parking in front of a huge fucking castle. It's so big and we're so close to it, I can't even see the top. The goons exit the van and the one with Will pulls him along. I follow, grabbing my backpack and trying to keep an arms-length from either of them.

  They don't consider me much of a threat, because they stand back and motion for me to walk in front of them.

  "Come on, Princess. Let's go."

  Adjusting my backpack, I look up at the massive front door to the castle, wooden and stained dark and shiny. The whole thing is pretty damn impressive, or would be if I wasn't being kidnapped by some magical king.

  I can't take it too seriously, not yet. I trust my cat to shift and get us away, but what about Will? He'd pissed off someone pretty damn powerful if they kidnapped both of us. I couldn't leave him there to die.

  The thought of my new friend, however much we liked to tease each other, dying in this drafty old castle pisses me off. "Who do you think you are, anyway?" I hiss at head-dickhead.

  He laughs at me. "You're a wildcat, aren't you?"

  You have no idea.

  Grabbing my arm, he turns me and marches me toward the door. "Keep walking, we don't need blood out here on the front steps. It's uncivilized."

  As we top the stairs, the door opens to a cavernous entry room. It's full of statues and suits of armor, with gigantic paintings on the wall, some looking quite old. My jaw drops as I look around.

  The room is so big I can't see the details of the people in the paintings, but as Thug-Man leads me toward a set of stairs in the back of the room, some of the newer ones come into sharper focus.

  The two in the back, a man and woman, look familiar. "Who are they?" I ask, nodding my head toward the paintings as he takes us down the stairs. Damn. I'd hoped to go up. Down is never good in a castle.

  Of course, up could mean a tower, like a damn twisted-Rapunzel story.

  My hair isn't long enough to play out that particular fairytale. If we're here long enough my cat will shed enough to weave thread and knit an escape rope.

  I suppress a giggle. Maybe I'm more nervous about what's coming than I realized.

  "Shut up." He sneezes violently. "Must've been a cat in here," he mutters. "I hate cats."

  Giving him a look from the side of my eyes, I have to fight another giggle. Stop it. You're getting hysterical.

  Will is right behind me. "It's the late King and the Queen Dowager."

  Turning my head to look at him, I put one hand on the wall to keep me steady as we walk down the neverending spiral staircase. The walls around us are stone and have torches every few feet, lighting the way. "King and Queen of what?"

  "The witches," he mutters, giving me a disappointed look. "Something I never wanted you to find out about."

  Witches. Holy Hell. I was right.

  My answers are here. All I have to do is escape, break Will out, and then go snooping.

  No problem.

  The thug triplets stop at a door instead of continuing down the stairs. I let out a breath, relieved that we weren't going all the way to the bottom. A witches' dungeon wasn't my idea of a great time.

  Thug One takes a key out of his pocket, unlocking the door before shoving both of us in. "Wait here. The king will send for you when he's ready."

  I stumble into the room and look around, Will right on my heels. How would I shift without him seeing in this tiny room?

  Damn it. I hope I don't have to show him what I can do. It’s not that I think a guy who shoots fire from his hands won’t get it, it’s that telling my secret to him feels vulnerable. I’ve never told anyone my secret. The only way to keep a secret is to not freaking tell it.

  The room holds nothing but a bunch of straw in one corner. It's the picture of a holding cell for a fairy tale princess. Maybe I am stuck in a twisted fairy tale or something.

  Will lowers himself onto the straw with a groan. "Are you okay?" He looks up at me, one hand on his head.

  "Let me take a look at that cut," I say as I scurry over to him, dropping my backpack next to him. It's still bleeding a little. I slip my shirt off, then try to tear a strip off of the bottom of it.

  It doesn't tear. So I put the material between my teeth and pull. If I can get a tear started, I can do the rest with my hands.

  Will snorts as he watches me struggle with my shirt.

  "Give me that." He snatches my shirt out of my hands and stares pointedly at my breasts, perky in a nice bra.

  So glad I put on the good bra today
.

  He stretches out his pointer finger and touches it to the material, halfway down the belly of the shirt. A hole appears in the material, burned by the heat of his finger.

  "You could cauterize the wound," I tell him as he uses the hole to rip my shirt.

  He rolls his eyes. "It's not that easy. I can't burn myself."

  When he's got a long strip of my hot pink shirt in his hands, he wraps it around his head. I put the ruined tee back on, very aware that my entire midriff shows. At least my bra is covered.

  He's doing it all wrong, so I take the strip of fabric and tie it around his head properly. "I'm not a doctor, and I have no idea if that'll help, but at least your blood won't get in your eyes."

  He nods and leans his head against the wall. "They'll keep us here, stewing, for at least a few hours."

  "How do you know?"

  "Because I was kept here, once." Blinking open his eyes, he looks around at the room. "In a room like this one. I can't tell, but it might've been the same one."

  "Why were you kept here?"

  Will sighs and leans forward, his head in his hands. "I'm a fire mage."

  A mage, that sounds better than fire guy. I nod. It makes sense.

  "So, basically a witch?"

  He snorts. "No, witches use spells. Fire mages use fire like humans breathe. It’s natural to us. An ability we’re born with. Fire calls to us like a living creature." He takes a deep breath, looking exhausted. "Mages are rare, and usually respected like hell by witches. They love when mages breed with their kind, because their children are often even more powerful, having a natural ability to control magic."

  I nod. Again, it makes sense in a strange sort of way.

  "Why don't you look surprised?"

  Shrugging, I tell him the truth. Not all of it, of course. "I saw you. On the beach. With the vampires."

  "You knew?" He narrows his eyes at me. "Why didn't you say something?"

  "I didn't know if you were a bad guy or not." I stand and start to pace, antsy. "What did you expect, me to see you kill that golem in a blaze of glory, then fall into your arms?"

  His gaze moves to my bare stomach. "Sounds good to me."

  "You're a nutcase." I sit down beside him. "Listen, if we're going to be here for a while, you should rest. Maybe your firey, flamey, witches-don’t-exist, but-I-can-light-myself-on-fire powers will heal the cut on your head."