by Amber Kallyn
The burning had been satisfied, and was now only a dim warmth deep inside her. Yet she still wanted him with an almost uncontrollable urgency. It didn’t matter. There was a job to do. It didn’t matter everything was completely complicated—more so than she’d ever expected.
But how?
Scott seemed human. While sometimes the burning happened between one of her kind and a mortal, it was so rare as to be considered a myth. Besides, only two supernatural creatures could produce such an intense burn beneath the moonlight.
Calla had to wonder about that, and the Other. Both here in this tiny town. Had Eric somehow known her destined mate lived in this small town?
Not possible.
The only way a shifter knew their mate was in a touch beneath the moonlight. She hadn’t even been actively looking. Scott’s face flitted through her mind. A playboy. A clown. She’d hoped for someone more… steady. Serious and dependable. Someone like herself.
Again her mother’s voice ran through her head, saying destiny was destiny. Calla’s eyes burned, thinking about the woman.
She could walk away and ignore this connection with Scott. Nothing permanent would come of it. This playboy was so not the man for her. She dug in her bag and pulled out her cell phone, then punched in the first five numbers to her eldest brother. He’d come and take over for her. All she needed to do was tell him about Eric. As a magical bounty hunter, Garreth’s job was finding those like Eric and bringing them to the council for trial.
Her finger hovered over the next number. Was she a coward? She didn’t think so, but if she ran now…
Calla snapped the phone shut and dropped it in her bag. The desire surging inside her wouldn’t go away if she left. It didn’t matter to the burning inside if they were compatible. To destiny, it only mattered they could successfully have children. Some couples fulfilled the burn, even though they couldn’t stand each other. Once a child was conceived, they went their separate ways.
It was no way for a child to be raised, knowing their parents hated each other. It was no way for a woman to live—a life devoid of love and affection from a man.
Yet, leaving now smacked of weakness.
So she’d give it a few days. Do her job. And she’d keep her emotions guarded. Scott wasn’t the man for her, regardless of what stupid destiny thought.
Besides, if she left now, she’d forever regret not facing Eric. The bastard deserved to pay for all he’d done—before he did more damage to her family or anyone else.
* * *
Scott spent a few extra minutes in the icy shower trying to calm his aching balls. He’d woken from the most incredible night of his life to find Calla gone, only the scrap of lacy undershirt and the lingering scent of cherries remaining. Panic came swiftly, a punch to his chest, until he heard her moving around the bathroom.
But when she’d finally come back to his bedroom, it was the ice queen, returned so soon.
How did the woman switch personalities so damn fast? Maybe he’d read too much into the whole thing. Hell, it didn’t matter she’d been a tiger, demanding it all.
He’d told her the truth. He didn’t jump into bed with just anyone. Yet last night…
It hadn’t been just sex.
His legs turned to jelly as he realized they hadn’t used protection. Any of the times he’d come inside her.
Shit.
His cell rang in the bedroom, the ringtone “Ring of Fire.” The department. Scott jumped out of the shower, grabbing a towel as he raced to the room.
“Yeah?” he shouted, slightly breathless from nerves stretched tight with expectation of what he was about to hear.
“Boss?” Tommy asked. “We got another one.”
The towel dropped to the floor. Scott rubbed his knuckles against the bridge of his nose. He’d hoped once the investigator arrived, they’d have a few days before another fire. Only, the investigator turned out to be the completely upsetting, unsettling Calla Dragos, bringing even more problems into his life.
“Where?” he finally asked, needing to know regardless of wanting to chuck the phone across the room and hit something. Hard.
“The Garrett ranch.”
Scott inhaled sharply as his heart sank. “I’m on my way.”
“Boss, um…” Only the sound of Tommy’s breathing came through the line.
“Spit it out.”
“Sally and Jake are dead.”
Scott’s grip tightened on the phone and his free hand spasmed into a white-knuckled fist. The phone cracked, a plastic splinter slicing into the side of his palm.
He kept his breathing shallow, rubbing a hand over his chest, needing to get over the pain before it grew insurmountable.
Slowly, as if in a haze, he bandaged the cut, then dressed. Boots in hand, he took the stairs two at a time. When he stepped out onto the porch, he came to an abrupt stop, the lump in his throat preventing speech.
Calla turned with a small smile that disappeared as she looked at him. Jumping to her feet, she hurried to his side. “What happened?”
He opened his mouth, but the lump prevented speech.
“Another fire?” she asked softly, laying a hand on his arm.
Scott nodded.
“Come on. I’ll drive. Tell me where to go.” She took his keys and started his truck with a roar of the engine, then waited.
Finally, his feet responded. Scott climbed in. Calla drove down the long driveway, shooting him sympathetic glances, which only made the pain worse.
At the highway, she paused.
“Left,” he croaked.
She turned and drove on. A mile from the ranch, he spotted the gray smoke on the horizon. The scent slid into the back of his throat, choking, stealing his voice, his breath.
When they arrived, Scott almost couldn’t leave the truck. Fists clenched, he forced himself to do his job. Not just as Fire Chief, but as a family friend.
Chapter Five
Calla hurried from the truck to the group of people standing near the house, uncomfortable without underwear regardless that no one but she and Scott would know. Though the overwhelming stench of sulfur told her the fire had been in the opposite direction, the heaviness in the air said it was more than a building this time.
Scott followed, his movements picking up speed as he drew closer. Someone in the crowd shouted and raced into his arms. He held the young girl, looking over her head to stare at the older man slumped on the porch.
“Bobby, how are the boys?” Scott asked, his voice thick.
The old man glanced around as if in a fog. “Jake… Where’s Jake?”
Scott knelt beside the man, drawing him into an embrace, speaking soft words of comfort that didn’t do anything to help the pain, but at least allowed one to know they weren’t alone.
Fred appeared at her side and took her arm, angling her slightly away from the house. “What happened?” she asked, keeping her voice quiet to not disturb the melancholy wrapped around everyone.
Eyes red, Fred yanked a limp cloth from his back pocket and wiped his nose. “It was the barn this time.” He pointed to the older man. “Bobby Garrett hustled the ranch hands and his older boys to help get the animals out.”
Calla twined her arm with his, trying to give comfort.
“The horses got out, all but the stallion in there for stud.” His eyes teared and his voice cracked.
“Stud?” Calla asked, though she knew perfectly well what it meant, she just wanted to get his mind to a better place. If it was possible.
“He’s been makin’ the mares pregnant.”
She nodded, rubbing his arm.
“So, Bobby’s oldest boy—Jake—ran in to get the stubborn horse. That damn stubborn horse.”
Calla watched the people, their lives having come to a shocking halt in one swift move by a stranger that thrived on such things. They’d lost a son.
“Jake…” Fred sniffled. “He was still inside when the roof went. His ma, Bobby’s wife, went mad, screaming and
clawing, like a wild animal possessed. She ran in there before anyone could stop her.”
Calla’s heart shattered into tiny pieces. Her lungs imploded, making breathing impossible. This family had lost a son, a brother, as well as a mother. The back of her throat burned with memories.
This here, now, was not her pain, but belonged to the family huddling near the porch.
Scott drew the young girl toward her father and they slumped on the stairs together. An adorable young boy of about seven climbed onto Bobby’s lap, while a man about Scott’s age came from the house carrying an infant. The six of them seemed to draw strength from each other.
Patting Fred’s hand, Calla asked, “Can you direct me to the barn?”
He glanced at her, then in the direction of the smoke. “I-I can’t let you go alone. I mean… the sheriff…”
“You can come if you want,” she assured Fred.
“Yeah.” They headed from the gloom of sadness and depression, walking closer to the stench of the cause.
Deputies milled around, but no one did much. The sheriff caught her eye, an overweight, balding man with a mustache that dripped down his chin.
A scowl wrinkled his forehead and he stomped her way. With barely a glance at Fred, he addressed her. “What do you want?”
Calla slid her badge out. “I’m the investigator from Phoenix.”
He clamped his teeth. “Really? Wanna explain why you didn’t check in with me when you got here?”
His rude gruffness was the cure she needed. Calla embraced the anger overpowering her deepest pains. Straightening her spine to reach her full five foot nine, Calla almost growled, “Protocol requires I check with the local fire department, not the sheriff.”
“Hmph.” He turned and looked at the destroyed barn. “Stay out of our way. We’ll be done in a while.”
Though she wanted to argue, Call restrained herself. Instead, she let Fred lead her to the shade of a pine tree and they watched the sheriff and his men aimlessly wander. Finally, almost an hour later, they left.
The sheriff shot her a curt nod. “I expect your report by tomorrow.”
Nibbling her tongue, Calla held in the retort that he could go ahead and hold his breath. She didn’t report to that jerk.
She surveyed the scene without the distraction of people everywhere. Blackened beams created a skeletal frame covered with gray ash. The sickening smell of burnt flesh lingered in the air. She couldn’t dwell on that, or the sorrow it brought. Trying to clear her mind, she did the only thing she could to help catch the monster who’d done this.
Pulling out her notepad and pen, she flipped to a fresh page and began jotting down observations. She surveyed the waterlogged wreckage, trying to stay detached. Right now, she was not a woman with family and relationship issues. She was a trained investigator. And she would investigate.
Fred tried to talk to her a few times, but eventually gave up and meandered away. Calla barely noticed, intent on her work. She took notes on the arrangement of debris, smoke patterns on what remained. Finally, she narrowed down the hot spot. Surrounded by black ash, near what she assumed had been the main doors, the area reeked of sulfur.
After bagging ash, soot and a few pieces of cooled wood, she slipped out her cell phone to report in.
No bars. No reception. Which figured.
Calla stepped away from the barn and just looked at it. Trying to see beyond what was there now.
She pictured the bright red barn, standing high, filled with animals. Their sounds turned panicky as the scent of the Other filled the air. Then came smoke, and frightened screams of horses.
People shouted, joining the screaming.
Before she could picture the deaths, a hand grabbed her elbow and spun her around. She blinked furiously, letting out a soft breath. As the cobwebs of the vision drifted away, she glanced at her rescuer. Scott’s hard expression chilled Calla to the bone.
“Are you all right?” she asked softly, taking one of his hands.
“How can you be so detached to come and get right to work? Don’t you care what happened?” he demanded.
She touched his jaw, realizing how badly he was hurting. “I’m doing the only thing I can do to help. I’m going to get the information needed to stop the bastard who did this.”
His gray eyes darkened, the green flecks expanding, almost glowing. Calla almost asked him right then what he was. Instead, she let him lean into her, drawing comfort from the contact.
There was nothing sexual about it. Not even the burning. Just two people, near a tragedy, sharing each other’s presence.
Scott shuddered, his face pale if stoic. He rested his forehead against hers, staring into her eyes.
“We have to get this guy,” he whispered, his voice raw with pain.
“Yes.”
He took a deep breath and stepped back, though he kept hold of her hand. His grip was tight, but Calla ignored the slight discomfort. She didn’t care, as long as it made him feel better.
After looking over the destroyed barn, Scott asked, “So how are you going to figure out who did it by a few pieces of burnt wood?” The harshness left his tone, though the sadness lingered.
“It’s like CSI. Each piece means nothing by itself, but a bunch of clues put together can give a lot of information.”
“How?”
She pointed to the place she figured to be the point of origin. “This is where it began. There’s no detectable accelerant.” Of course, Eric wouldn’t need an accelerant, but she couldn’t exactly explain that. Yet. Soon, it would be time. “But this guy somehow got a blaze burning hot, spreading quick.”
“So?”
She glanced at him sharply. “You’re a firefighter, don’t you know most of this already?”
“Maybe I just like to hear you talk.”
Heat spread through her from the intensity in his gaze. He’d jumped to the next stage of grief. Sex worked wonders to combat sadness, but now wasn’t really the time. Pity.
Calla caught her thoughts. Last night had been great. But she wasn’t ready for the mating, certainly not with him. Yet, this softer, vulnerable side of him touched her in places that had nothing to do with lust. Maybe he wasn’t just the playboy she’d assumed.
She scratched down the last of her notes, then carefully moved away from the outer border of scattered wood pieces. “I’m ready to go if you are. I need to make some calls and my phone isn’t working here.”
He didn’t move, just stared at the blackened destruction, pain etched on his face. Calla leaned against him, sliding her arm around his waist. “Is the family going to be okay?”
“Eventually. We breed ’em tough out here. But nothing will be the same. Ever.”
She almost let slip her familiarity with such feelings, but nibbled her lip to keep the words inside. The time wasn’t right to tell him any of the things she probably should.
Then again, when was it ever a good time to tell someone you were a magical creature no one believed existed? One being hunted by a darker, perverted version of herself.
With a heavy sigh, she tugged him toward the main house and the truck. He let her lead until they reached his vehicle. Then, he sent a wave to the people still gathered on the porch and said, “I’m driving.”
“Fine with me.”
When they reached the highway, Scott sped up, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. But his posture was stiff, his grip tight on the wheel. “Why do I get the feeling you know who’s doing this?” he asked.
Calla stared out the windshield, taking a deep breath to try calming her raging stomach, wishing she’d had a bit more time before this conversation.
“My friends are dead. My town’s being ravaged,” he whispered. “Any information you have needs to be shared. Tell me what’s going on.”
A dam blocked her throat.
“Tell me who it is. Why they’re doing this.”
“Why does anyone commit crimes, do evil things?” Especially Eric. His change from the
strong, caring man she’d once known to a dark beast was beyond comprehension.
“Fine. Who?”
“His name is Eric… he’s going by the last name of Borgensen.” She fell silent, drowning in the painful memories.
“You’ve dealt with him before.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.”
“So this Eric guy is a fire bug from the valley. Why’d he come here?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why hasn’t he been caught?” Scott demanded, his tone full of suppressed rage.
Immense wings flapped above the truck, sending dust billowing against the windows. Something latched on to the cab, sending them careening from the road and into the trees. Branches whacked the sides, ripping her side view mirror off. More hit the windshield and cracks appeared.
Scott swore, pumping the brakes while trying to control the wheel. “What the hell is that?”
The truck shuddered to a stop with the grill only inches from a tree. Metal groaned and the flapping rose higher above them.
Calla felt no fear, only a determination to make the Other pay. The time had come. Adrenaline swamped through her, making her muscles tense, ready for the battle ahead. She faced Scott, the only question in all this. For she was pretty certain she couldn’t bear for him to get hurt. Acknowledging the feeling was almost as scary as the creature flying above them.
“You need to get out of here as fast as you can.”
His eyes widened as his mouth thinned. “What—”
“This is my responsibility. I can’t explain right now. Please. Trust me and go.”
She jumped from the truck. Scott began to open his door, but she yelled, “Stay inside. Go.”
“I’m not leaving you here with that… whatever!”
Calla turned her changing gaze to Scott, knowing her eyes were almost a pure red, her pupils vertical slits.
Scott gasped, but didn’t waver.
“Honey, he ain’t got nothing on me.” She ran from the truck, letting her body flow from small, soft, vulnerable human. Her clothes ripped apart as she grew larger, her arms and legs thickening. Soon she was on all fours, claws digging up dirt with each stride. Her true form. Huge, red scales reflecting in the sunlight.