Wildfire Griffin (Fire & Rescue Shifters: Wildfire Crew #1)(60)

Chapter 29





Edith awoke to a satisfied ache between her legs, a heavy arm draped across her chest, and a cold wet nose poking her cheek.

“Yuck!” She groggily batted away the morning dog-breath panting in her face. “Fenrir!”

Up, Stone Bitch. Sun rises. Pack calls.

The deep, unfamiliar voice made her come wide-awake in an instant. Rory made an indistinct sound of protest as she sat bolt upright, taking the sheet with her. Clutching it to her chest, she stared around—but all she could see was Fenrir.

The dog’s tail swished like a windscreen wiper. Morning, Stone Bitch.

She wasn’t hearing the voice with her ears. It was in her head. Just like she’d heard Rory last night…

“Edith?” Rory mumbled. Somehow she could feel his surge of concern, like a light brightening in her heart. “Wha’ wrong?”

“Nothing.” She fumbled for his bare shoulder, patting it in reassurance. “Go back to sleep.”

He sighed and relaxed again, his muscles unknotting. That strange sense of him in her chest faded again, though it didn’t disappear entirely. She could sense it pulsing gently, in time with his slow breathing.

Fenrir peered with interest at Rory’s slack, slumbering face. Good. Worn out. Serviced Stone Bitch well?

Edith stared at the dog. His mouth wasn’t moving. “That is you talking, isn’t it?”

Fenrir flicked an ear. Have always talked. Stone Bitch just started listening. Is pack now.

“Um. You know my name is Edith, right?”

Yes, Fenrir said serenely. Stone Bitch.

As nicknames went, it was…pretty badass. She’d take it.

“What do you call Rory?” she asked, curious.

Fenrir’s jaw dropped in a sly doggy grin. Birdcat.

Edith choked back a laugh, not wanting to wake Rory up. “Does he mind?”

Immensely. Fenrir sounded distinctly satisfied.

Now she knew how to tease Rory, if she ever needed to. Not that she could imagine ever wanting to. She gazed down at him, the warmth in her heart expanding to fill her whole chest. He was perfect.

And he was hers.

She wanted nothing more than to spend all morning—all week—in bed with her mate, but she made herself roll away. From the angle of the light filtering through the curtains, it was just past dawn. Soon the whole crew would be up, beginning the now-familiar morning routine of breakfast and exercise.

Or possibly not. A shivery tingle went through her as she realized that it was the first day that the crew was officially on call. From now on, they could be deployed at any moment, anywhere in the country.

Today might be the day she fought her first real wildfire as a hotshot.

Yesterday, that would have made her stomach twist with nerves. Now, with the mate bond beating steadily in her chest, she just felt excited. This was what she’d been training for, what she’d dreamed about for so long. She was ready.

Yes. Too long in den. Fenrir’s eyes gleamed like molten copper, as though he too felt the same restless energy. Pack needs to hunt.

She started to throw back the sheet, and then stopped abruptly. A blush heated her face.

“Uh, Fenrir?” Wystan had said that the dog was really a man, after all. “Would you mind turning around? I’m not wearing anything.”

Fenrir wrinkled his nose. Two-legs. Never understand you.

Nonetheless, he obligingly fixed his gaze on the wall. Edith scrambled out of bed, hunting for her clothes. Her shirt was a tragic casualty of the night before. She had to steal Rory’s crew tee, although it hung from her much narrower shoulders like a tent. His spice-smoke scent wrapped around her like an embrace.

Got to get some clothes from my cabin, she decided as she pulled on her boots. Otherwise I’m going to be drifting round all day smelling myself and walking into things.

Rory didn’t stir as she got dressed and bound her hair into a messy braid. He was even more beautiful in sleep, all control relaxed at last, the lines made by worry and responsibility smoothed away. The rising sun turned his hair the innocent gold of an angel’s. He looked strangely vulnerable, in a way that he never did when he was awake.

She couldn’t bring herself to disturb his well-earned rest. There was still time to let him sleep a little longer. She tiptoed out, Fenrir at her heels.

The front door of the cabin was still closed and bolted. She glanced at Fenrir as she opened it. “How did you get in here, anyway? I thought you never shifted.”

He snorted. Two-legs as foolishly proud of hands as they are ashamed of their hides. Overrated. Watch.

His body expanded into the bristling, flame-eyed monster wolf. In that shape, she half-expected him to huff and puff and blow the whole cabin down. But to her surprise, his hulking coal-black form faded, going thin and shadowy. In seconds, he’d vanished entirely.

Before she could call out, his distinctive bark sounded from outside the cabin. Opening the door, she found him sitting right in front of it, looking rather smug.

“Wow.” She had to reach out to touch him, just to make sure he was really there. “How did you do that?”

Don’t know. He rumbled in pleasure, nudging into her hand until she hit just the right spot. Just do. Is like Birdcat’s voice, or Shadowhorse’s nose. Natural.

She frowned as she started toward the mess hall. “Shadowhorse? Do you mean Callum or Wystan?”