Passion's Fire (Passion Moon 2): (A Shifter, Supernatural Romance)

by Renee Jordan

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Seeing if Penny wrote down a tracking spell.” I looked up at Forrest. “I'm getting tired of this. That jerk thinks he can stalk me and threaten you.”

  Forrest snorted, “Like he could hurt me.”

  I gave my boyfriend a fond smile. “No, you'd teach him a lesson if he tried.” I bit my lip, turning the page again. “But I just want him locked away or gone from Moonrise. I've wasted so much time on him. No more. We can end this today.”

  “Well, are you finding anything?” Forrest asked, the shopping bag rustling as he shifted. His eyes glanced down inside the bag. “Did you buy shoes?”

  “Don't peek,” I admonished as I scanned the last page of Penny's writing. “I want it to be a surprise for tomorrow night.”

  He nodded and his radio squawked, “Hey, boss, I'm at the top of Miner's Way. If he went this way, he ain't getting past me.”

  “You sure he went that way?” Forest asked me.

  “Maybe,” I shrugged, sighing as I put away the notebook. “He took the right at Spring Drive. Only two ways to go from there.”

  Forrest grabbed his radio. “Kiernan, are you still west of town?”

  “Yeah, boss,” Kiernan radioed back. “I've been sitting out on Spring Drive for a good twenty minutes. No jeep's come this way.”

  “Then we got him,” Forrest grinned. “He's got to be up the in the mountains somewhere.”

  “Lots of side-roads and back trails, right?” I asked.

  “Yep. But we'll clear them.”

  I pulled my phone out. “Why don't I call Penny and see if there is a tracking spell. I could help narrow down the search area.”

  Forrest worked his jaw. “Okay, Kotie. Why not?”

  The phone rang. “Moon Tear Roadhouse,” Penny answered, her voice bubbly and positive. “How can I help you?” In the background, rock music thumped and men talked.

  “Hey, it's Kotie.”

  “Oh, hey,” she said. “What's up?”

  “I need a tracking spell. Burt showed up, threatened Forrest, and then took off again.”

  “Hmm, let me think. Yeah, I know how. You can work a tracking spell in a few different ways. One way is to use a divining rod of some kind and a map. The spirit guides the rod and touches on the map where the target is. That's usually used for searching big areas and is extremely difficult to cast. Usually, a person has to be attuned to the Death ley line to work that spell.”

  “Death?” I squeaked.

  “Divination is an aspect of Death,” she answered. “The other one I know lets you track stuff that's close, like within a few miles. But it doesn't work on living creatures.”

  “The tracking spell might work.”

  “Okay, the spell goes, 'Spirits of divination, find what I have lost and lead me to it.' Just fix in your mind the object you’re searching for. The harder you focus and the more energy you expend, the greater the range of the spell. You got that?”

  “Yeah, thanks, Penny.”

  “No problem. I hope you and Forrest teach that prick how things work in Moonrise.”

  I glanced at Forrest and his hard expression. “Oh, I think Burt's gonna learn a lesson. Later, Penny.”

  “Call me and dish,” she smiled. “I want to hear everything that happened.”

  “I will.” I hung up and put my phone back in my purse. “Go get your SUV while I cast the spell, Forrest.”

  He shoved my shopping bag back at me and loped across the street. I set the bag down, took a deep breath, and focused my magic, projecting it through my totem. The tattoo prickled, and I commanded in a loud, firm voice, “Spirits of divination, find what I have lost and lead me to it.”

  I stumbled as the energy washed out of me. My head felt light. I grabbed a nearby telephone pole as my vision swam. I gasped for breath. Casting this divination spell was tougher than all the other magic I used today.

  A clammy chill settled about me. I shuddered as a dark, creeping shadow rose out of the earth, almost clawing its way free, before drifting up to me. A nimbus of purple, pale light surrounded the shadow as it rose into the air. It brushed my finger, tugging at me.

  I shuddered in disgust. It felt as dirty as the Death ley line at the Moon Tear Spring.

  Tires squealed. Forrest’s SUV pulled up along the sidewalk. He reached over, opening the passenger door. “Did it work?”

  “Yes,” I answered, glad Forrest couldn't see the death spirit tugging at my finger. I grabbed my shopping bags and hopped in, the spirit clinging to my finger like a piece of filth. “Okay, head to Spring Drive.”

  The spirit guided me and I guided Forrest. The spirit seemed to know that I couldn't just go straight to where Burt went. How it knew about streets, I didn't understand. I guessed it was magic. Forrest took the right on Spring Drive, then we turned onto Miner's Way. We passed both the Bed & Breakfast and our house as we drove up the winding, mountain road.

  The spirit tugged on my finger. “Take the next left.”

  “Right.” Forrest turned the steering wheel. Gravel crunched beneath the tires as the SUV barreled down the bumpy road. I gasped and groaned as I was bounced about, gravel pinging into the undercarriage and a trail of dust obscuring the air behind us. Trees flashed by, the setting sun streaming through the branches.

  The SUV slid on the gravel, fishtailing as Forrest rounded a sharp turn. “Do you know where this leads?” I asked.

  “Some hunting cabins,” Forrest grinned. “I doubt anyone's staying in them right now.” He grabbed his radio, summoning backup.

  The spirit tugged on my finger again. “Next right, Forrest.”

  “Yep, the hunting cabins.” Forrest leaned forward, almost salivating. We were on the hunt, and he was eager to run down his prey.

  The engine roared as he turned, flooring it up a steep hill, spraying gravel behind us. My heart thudded faster. What would happen when we reached Burt? What if Burt had a gun? I had to be ready with my protective magic.

  I reached into my reserves. I still had a bit of juice left. The Love spirits appeared, dancing around Forrest and me, encircling us in flashes of gold. They seemed happy as they cavorted through air the about us.

  They sensed our love and savored it.

  “Okay, get ready,” Forrest growled. “You ever use a shotgun?”

  “Yeah,” I nodded. “Wayne used to let me shoot his 20 gauge when I was a kid. Only time he wouldn't drink was when we went shooting.” I blinked in astonishment. Did I actually have a fond memory or two of my drunken step-father?

  Forrest motioned at the shotgun clipped to the SUV's firewall between us. “It's loaded. Pump it once to chamber a shell. Just in case.”

  I swallowed and nodded. Maybe this wasn't a good idea.

  “There's his jeep.”

  I looked ahead. A rickety cabin, its roof covered in pine needles, sat at the top of the rise, the battered jeep before it. My stomach clenched as we roared up the hill. Just as we hit the top, Forrest slammed the brakes, the SUV sliding to a halt. He was out of the car in a flash, drawing his side-arm as he loped forward.

  I swallowed, pulling the shotgun from the console clip and sliding out the other side. My hands trembled as I held it, the barrel pointed down and my finger off the trigger. I pumped it once, the metal action clicking inside. Red flashed as the shell was chambered in the breech.

  Forrest ripped open the jeep's driver door and took a deep breath. He let out a growl, sniffing more as he stalked about the cabin. Then he stopped, staring down at the ground. I frowned, moving up beside him, spotting the impression of car tires.

  “He ditched the vehicle,” Forrest growled in disgust. “Had another one stashed here.”

  “Probably his mustang,” I suggested.

  “Can you cast another tracking spell?” he asked, holstering his gun.

  I shook my head. “I don't have the energy to.”

  He took another deep breath. “Do you smell that stink, Kotie?”

&nb
sp; I breathed in deeply. I smelled the pine needles and the loamy scent of dirt. “No.”

  “The Donovan clan's stink is all over this jeep.” He walked back over to it, peering at the dashboard. He grabbed his radio and called in the jeep's VIN. “It was stolen last month from Granite Hills,” Forrest reported.

  “What do we do now?” I asked.

  Forrest sighed. “I'll sick my pack on the Donovans. See if we can't shake loose how they're helping Burt. Did he buy a stolen car from them or are they helping him in other ways?”

  “I can't imagine Burt knows the back country well enough to find these cabins,” I said. “And Fiona saw Burt yesterday. She was at the bar.”

  “Bitch.”

  I nodded my head in complete agreement.

  Chapter Nine: Love's Medallion

  Forrest and I returned home after a deputy arrived to secure the jeep. It was frustrating to use my magic only to have Burt still slip away. Why would he even stick around town? Was he that obsessed with me that he would play chicken with the entire police force?

  Men and their stupid egos.

  At home, I cooked a simple dinner as Forrest began work on assembling the new bed upstairs. There were more than a few bangs and I distinctly heard one loud, cursing howl. After dinner, I “helped” Forrest finish setting up the bed. And by help, I mean I leaned against the wall and made interesting observations and admired his broad shoulders.

  After the bed was set up, we dragged the mattress onto it and covered it with the new sheets. Then I hung a set of mauve curtains and added a few little touches about the room. I added my clothes to the closet and Forrest gave me a few drawers of his dresser.

  I thought I would feel weird sleeping in the room where Vanessa was shot, but the new items had transformed the room into something different, something that was fully Forrest and me. And since she was fully healed, I really had nothing to feel guilty about.

  Forrest and I broke in the new mattress. I was so content from the pleasure we shared that I fell right to sleep, though I slept uneasily. Burt was in my dreams with Fiona, the pair eyeing me like I was dinner. But Forrest always was there to protect me.

  Saturday morning came, and Forrest and I spent it decorating the house with the items I bought. Forrest grumbled as I added lacy doilies everywhere and placed a set of coasters on his coffee table. It was a beat up, ugly table. We'd need a new one. Until then, I covered it with a nice doily. Then I draped the couch with a warm Afghan blanket.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Because it looks nice,” I said, shaking my head. “And when it's cold, you can wrap yourself up. Trust me, you can never have too many Afghans.”

  “I thought you were from Texas.”

  “It can get...a little cold in the winter,” I laughed. “I've even seen snow.”

  “Fine, fine,” he growled, seizing me and pushing me down on the couch. His lips were on me.

  I melted to him. I couldn't resist him. He could take me whenever he wanted. His animalistic passion always overwhelmed me. My shirt came flying off, his lips sucking at my flesh as I squirmed on the blanket.

  I tore at his shirt, peeling it off his chest so I could caress his hard muscles. His excitement bulged in his jeans. I squirmed in delight, licking my lips as a fire burned inside me. Forrest nuzzled between my bra-clad breasts, kissing down to my belly.

  “Forrest,” I giggled as he tongued my bellybutton.

  His fingers unsnapped my jeans. I lifted my butt so he could rip them off, throwing them to the floor with my blouse. He caressed me through my panties. I gasped and squirmed, my liquid passion evident.

  Forrest inhaled, then pulled my panties to the side and took a long lick. He started at my sphincter, his tongue brushing my sensitive backdoor. I bucked as his tongue swiped all the way up and through my pussy.

  “You animal!” I groaned as he devoured me.

  And that was the only word for it. Forrest devoured me. He was hungry for my flesh. He had to enjoy me. Once his lust mounted, he had to feast on me. All I could do was moan and gasp as he swirled pleasure through me.

  He lapped at me, licking all over my pussy and butt. His tongue attacked me. I squeezed my breasts through my bra cups as I writhed. I was so lucky to have a man that loved to eat me, to please me. I could spend all day gasping on his tongue.

  “Forrest!” I moaned as my orgasm writhed through me.

  My back arched, my head lifting up from the couch's arm before I fell back with a thud. I didn't mind the little bump on the back of my head. I was burning with too much rapture to care about that. My back writhed, rubbing my flesh against the Afghan's fleece.

  “Take me, Forrest!” I moaned, my pussy itching to be filled after a second orgasm burned through me. “Love me!”

  He rose, his chiseled chest rippling with his powerful muscles. I squirmed, drinking in his strength as he pushed his jeans down and that wonderful, thick slab of cock popped out. My pussy clenched in anticipation.

  He thrust into me with a single, powerful thrust. My toes curled in delight as I moaned my bliss. He pounded me a few times, his fingers stroking around my labia as he took me. Then he moved lower with his digits.

  “Yes!” I gasped as he brushed my back door. “Oh, yes, Forrest. Do it!”

  A few days ago, he had made love to my ass. It had been amazing. I squirmed as finger wormed into me, lubed by my juices. He worked it in and out in rhythm to his thick cock slamming into my sheath. I groaned, squeezing down on both, savoring the dual sensations.

  “You like that?” he demanded, shoving his finger deeper.

  “So much!” I moaned, bucking my hips up into his thrusts.

  My pleasure swelled inside me. Every thrust pushed me onward. I shuddered, closing my eyes as a wave of ecstasy washed through me, a preview of the powerful orgasm that threatened to burst through me any moment.

  “Harder, Forrest!”

  The couch groaned as he pounded me.

  “Yes!” My come burst inside me.

  I writhed in joy.

  Stars danced before my eyes.

  I moaned his name as I climaxed.

  I wrapped my legs around him, my toes curling in delight, and pulled him in deep.

  “You feel so hot,” he growled, leaning over me. He withdrew his finger from my asshole and his heavy body crushed me as he took me with abandon. His thrusts were hard and deep. I spasmed in delight around his cock as my body burst in pleasure again. The overwhelming sensation hammered in my mind, and I clung to my mate as I was swept away by his passion.

  He spilled in me, growling as he came.

  “Mmm,” I panted, then giggled. “I already have to wash our new blanket.”

  Forrest grinned with pride as he examined the wet spot we’d made on the Afghan.

  “See, this is why you need a blanket. It protects the couch cushions.”

  Forrest laughed, “You are a wonderful woman.”

  I loved hearing that.

  After our romp on the couch, I threw the blanket in the washing machine. I took a quick shower and found some clean clothes to wear. My meeting with Penny at the park for another magic lesson was fast approaching. Forrest insisted on coming.

  “I just want to enjoy the fresh air,” he said, but I could see the lie. He was concerned that Burt might try something.

  “Sure,” I told him. I could handle Burt with my magic, but knowing Forrest was nearby would make me feel even safer.

  Like I predicted the day before, the rain had already stopped by the time Forrest and I headed to the park. The sun shone on the wet trees, already evaporating the rain. Penny sat at a picnic table while a few kids laughed and ran around the nearby playground.

  Penny had me practice other spells. I made a flame dance on the palm of my hand as I controlled the excitable Fire spirits, and then I made of a ball of water by gathering it out of the wet grass. I made a flower bloom with Life magic, practiced making illusions with Light magic, and molded a quarter into a wol
f's head. I made a little medallion.

  “You're getting the hang of it,” Penny nodded. “You didn't have any problems with any of those types.”

  I held the wolf medallion in the palm of my hand. It was satisfying to have made something. I wanted to stay all afternoon, but the Policeman's Ball was tonight, and I needed to get ready. The last thing I did was grab a piece of grass.

  “Spirits of transformation,” I whispered, “change this blade of grass into a cord of leather.”

  The Transmutation spirits—malleable things that constantly changed shape and color, merging from one form to the next—appeared, touching the grass. I shuddered as I pictured the grass turning into a cord. The grass flowed, the green fading into brown as it narrowed and grew into a long, thin cord.

  I nodded in satisfaction, threading the cord through a small hole in the wolfhead medallion and tightly tied the ends. I walked over to Forrest and smiled, “I made something for you.”

  I placed the medallion around his neck. He stared at the wolf head, stroking it with his thumb. “Thank you,” he grinned, then dropped the medallion down his shirt.

  “Something magical to protect you,” I smiled, my tattoo itching. Love spirits danced about us, converging on the medallion. A golden glow bled through his shirt for a moment, and I blinked in surprise.

  “I know it'll keep me safe,” Forrest nodded.

  “Yeah.” My smile grew. I so loved my magic. I may not have meant to cast the spell, but the Love spirits knew what I wanted.

  I buzzed with energy on the drive home, giddy about the medallion I had created and enchanted.

  At home, I got ready for the ball. I showered again, then spent the next half-hour making my hair into a perfect, voluminous mass of auburn curls that spilled about my shoulders. I applied my makeup, painting my lips glossy red. I added a touch of blush to my cheeks and admired my green eyes made so vibrant by my dark mascara and eyeliner.

  I kicked Forrest out of our bedroom so I could change into my new dress without him watching. “You get ready,” I told him, “I want to surprise you with my dress.”

  His grin told me how eager he was for that surprise.