Wildfire Griffin (Fire & Rescue Shifters: Wildfire Crew #1)(47)

“Don’t think she takes kindly to people helping themselves to more than one pie.” Tanner gave her a long, level look. “Can’t say I do either. Think you should pick a stool and sit on it, if you take my meaning.”

She didn’t. She’d been sitting in the same place as always. And she hadn’t been eating pie. Why was everyone staring at her like that?

“Hey.” Seth’s broad chest blocked out the accusing eyes. He took her arm, drawing her aside. “Ignore these assholes, Edith. You’re no one’s property. You want to get out of here?”

He was smiling.

Out of the entire crew, he was the only person who was smiling at her.

She nodded.





*



Close. Too close.

It made the squirrel crawl along the ground, ignoring the way red pain shot through the animal’s injured leg. There had been no time to take care with the transfer, or to find a better host. With the shifters a heartbeat away from catching the hawk, it had been forced to dive and snatch the first creature it saw.

Even so, it had thought that it had been caught. When the black-furred shifter’s burning eyes had fixed on it, it had braced itself for a fight. Almost, it had relinquished its host and taken its true form, regardless of the risk.

But the shifters had turned aside from it. They’d taken the hawk’s empty body away like a trophy. From that, it now knew they didn’t understand its ability to move from host to host.

It still had the advantage of surprise.

It dragged the squirrel’s body out into a clearing. All the little creature’s instincts fought, filled with terror at being exposed in the twilight. It tightened its will, forcing the squirrel to stay motionless.

It did not have to wait long. A passing fox surged out of the bushes, all lean purpose and hunger. A pounce, a bite, teeth sinking into flesh…and it had a new host.

It shook the fox’s body like settling a coat, then set off purposefully through the trees. The fox’s sharp nose easily picked out the scents of men twisting through the forest. A simple matter to track them back to the shifters’ den.

As it drew closer to the angular man-dwellings, it picked up a different, subtler aroma. Not one that could be detected by any earthly creature, but intoxicating to its own unique senses.

Rage. Disgust. Anger. Shame.

The emotions hung thick over the shifters’ den. Something had happened. Something which had turned the bright, repulsive scents of friendship and trust and loyalty into a delicious stew of chaos.

The fox’s mouth watered in echo of its own hunger. It made the host creep cautiously through the base, slinking from shadow to shadow. Dangerous, to come so close to the shifters. But it could not resist that alluring scent.

Perhaps…perhaps it would finally be able to claim its prey.

It watched from under a log pile as the human woman stumbled away from the shifter pack. Shame and confusion clung to her like smoke. The shifters turned their backs on her, crowding around one of their own, pulling him into the privacy of the forest.

They didn’t see her climb into a vehicle with a smirking, shadow-souled human man. They didn’t see the headlights cut through the night, or hear the coughing roar as the truck pulled away from the camp.

For the first time, the shifters had left her alone. Unguarded.

Unprotected.

Its excitement made the fox’s heart pound in its narrow chest. It steered the animal back into the trees. It took care to loop round wide, avoiding the shifter pack.

It had been waiting for this chance. It had prepared. Located a special host, saved just for this eventuality.

A thousand scents filled the fox’s nose. It picked out the one it needed—pungent, earthy, dangerous. The spoor made the fur on the fox’s back stand on end. The animal did not want to go anywhere near that scent.

But the fox had no choice. It drove the animal onward, already planning its next move.

Risky, to jump hosts so many times in short succession. It would attract attention.

But if its plan worked…that would not matter.

It lolled the fox’s tongue out in a predatory grin, and ran on.





Chapter 22





Rory awoke to a scaled, blue-black weight crushing him to the ground.

His chest burned. With the last of his strength, he pounded as hard as he could on the side of the tail wrapped around his body. The gleaming coils shifted a little, allowing him to suck in a desperate lungful of air.

“Get off, Joe,” he managed to wheeze.

He was too groggy to make it an alpha command, but the sea dragon released him anyway. The scales filling his vision were replaced by a ring of anxious faces.

“Oh good.” Wystan blew out a sigh of relief. “You’re human again. How are you feeling?”

“Like a dragon sat on me.” Wincing, Rory levered himself to his elbows. He was going to have some spectacular bruises. “What was that for?”

The rest of the squad exchanged glances.

“You don’t remember?” Blaise said cautiously.

His head throbbed like he’d just woken up from a week-long drinking bender. Deep in his soul, his griffin was screaming, clawing at his bones, trying to wrest them back into its own shape.

“Last thing I knew, we were going to dinner,” he said, having difficulty hearing his own words over the din his inner animal was making. “Then I went round the corner, and saw—“