Wildfire Griffin (Fire & Rescue Shifters: Wildfire Crew #1)(73)
Edith looked positively relaxed by comparison. She had her big headphones on, completely covering her ears, as she usually did when they travelled. She rocked in time with her music, hands fluttering gently.
Over the past few months, he’d learned to read the infinite subtleties of her ever-dancing hands. She was excited and on edge, but not distressed.
Of course, he didn’t need her hands to tell him that. The mate bond glowed in his soul, sparkling like a diamond in the sun. He reached out to her, just because he could.
She didn’t look round, but her head tilted. Her soul interwove through his. The private intimacy of that union never failed to take his breath away.
The intoxicating closeness of her soul reminded him of other forms of closeness that they’d shared recently. They’d had a whole three days of leave in between assignments. They’d scarcely left their bed the entire time. Three glorious days and nights treasuring her body, worshipping his mate…
He shifted position in his seat, surreptitiously tugging his turn out jacket lower.
Edith’s bemused laughter rippled in his mind. *Even after three entire days? Haven’t you had enough yet?*
“Of you?” he breathed back. He let the effect she had on him fill his heart. “Never.”
She caught her lip between her teeth, cheeks pinking delightfully as his desire rippled down the mate bond. She tried to give him a stern look, which was completely belied by the way her own body was responding.
*Stop that,* she said, not entirely convincingly. We’re working.
His own grin widened, but he desisted. They were working. Though maybe if they weren’t too tired after their shift, they could find some secluded glade…
Wystan, who was sitting opposite them, cast him a faintly pained look. Rory shrugged at him, mouthing sorry. He didn’t want to cause the unicorn shifter discomfort, but it wasn’t his fault he had such a sexy mate.
Blaise let out a low whistle. She had her forehead pressed to the small window, hands cupped against the glass. “Wow. Will you look at that.”
Rory leaned past Edith, peering out himself.
On second thought, they probably weren’t going to be finding a nice private glade anytime soon.
As far as the eye could see, the land burned. Vast swathes of the Californian forest were actively ablaze, fire crowning the trees. Ugly, barren lines like rough roads cut through the once-pristine wilderness, from bulldozers desperately trying to halt the advance. Even as he watched, a tendril of fire probed at a trench, finding just enough uncleared fuel to snake across to the other side.
“Big,” was Callum’s only comment.
“Big is an understatement,” Wystan said, looking pale. “The word ‘apocalyptic’ springs to mind.”
“That’s why we’re here.” Rory said, sitting back again. “At least we have plenty of help. There are hundreds of crews battling this thing. We just have to deal with our little bit.”
“The hottest bit,” Joe said. “Why couldn’t we deal with the bit near a beach? Or at least near a nice town well-stocked with bars and admiring ladies?”
“I’ll make sure to pass on your preferences to Buck.” Rory grabbed hold of a strap as the helicopter lurched. “Looks like we’re here. Let’s go, team.”
The helicopter hovered, not quite touching down. Along with the rest of the crew, they scrambled to grab their gear and jump down to the ground. Their transport didn’t wait around, immediately lifting back into the sky to go and get the next crew.
“All right boys and girls!” Buck called as the helicopter thudded away. “Welcome to the Harley Fire, spike camp 15B. This is the biggest assignment most of you’ve seen yet, so stay tight and don’t get lost. I’m going to go see what’s what. Try not to break any limbs or start any fights or seduce anyone’s girl for five whole minutes, Joe. Sit. Stay.”
“She wasn’t someone’s girl, she was a grown-ass woman who was delightfully clear about what she wanted,” Joe muttered as Buck stalked away. “That guy was just a possessive douchebro. And it only happened one time.”
“So far,” Wystan murmured.
Rory abruptly felt Edith tense. Her hands flurried. She clamped them to her sides, forcibly stilling them in a way he hadn’t seen her do for months.
“Edith?” he asked, concerned. “What’s wrong?”
She was staring across the wide, bulldozer-razed clearing. Another crew was lounging on the fresh-cut stumps, backpacks piled at their feet, clearly waiting for their own Superintendent to come back from the command meeting.
“You remember my previous crew? The one that fired me?” She jerked her chin, face pale under her freckles. “That’s them.”
At her side, Fenrir growled. Courage, Stone Bitch. Have pack of your own, now. Show them your teeth.
The other crew had noticed them as well. From their equipment, they were Type 2 hand crew, not hotshots—not qualified to run chainsaws or work the hottest part of the fire. A few of the men straightened. There was suddenly a lot more flexing going on.
Blaise rolled her eyes. “Boys.”
A big, burly man wandered over. From the markings on the helmet tucked under his arm, he was a squad boss too. Clearly recognizing Rory as his counterpart, he gave him a cautious but not unfriendly nod.
“Hotshots, huh?” he said with respect. He offered his hand. “I guess we’ll be following you today.”