Feral Heat

Chapter Eleven

Deni was restless all morning. She tried to work in the yard, neatening her garden, but she found herself stabbing the trowel into the dirt again and again for no reason. Deni threw down the trowel and stripped off her gloves, dropping them as well.

Her arm felt bare and strange without the bracelet she wore all the time. She touched her skin there but smiled. The bracelet was safe with Jace. He’d come back to her.

Still, she was growling by the time she reached the house. Jackson hadn’t been scheduled to work today, but Will now gave Deni a good-bye hug and went off to the warehouse.

“You all right, Mom?” Jackson said, peering at Deni after they waved off Will.

Jackson looked so much like his father, his hair dark instead of light like hers and Ellison’s, his eyes a lighter shade of gray. Deni pulled him into a hug, feeling a flood of love for him. But she remembered when her mate had been dying, how the mate bond had pulled at her and sickened her . . . as it was doing now.

A reaction to Jace leaving so abruptly, she told herself. Nothing is wrong . . .

“I’m fine,” she said.

“It’s just that you look at little bit, you know . . .” Jackson frowned in worry. “Like you do when you start to go feral . . .”

He trailed off, and nausea bit Deni, the world spinning. She gripped Jackson’s shoulder. “No, don’t let me . . .” Forget who everyone is, try to attack my own children. Goddess, please!

She smelled a strong, male smell, one different enough from other Shifters to make her wolf’s hackles rise. Deni growled and spun around, instinctively stepping in front of Jackson, protecting.

Tiger stood at the edge of the yard, having suddenly appeared as he usually did. Deni took a deep breath, willing herself to calm.

“You let him go,” Tiger said.

Deni shook her head, the nausea still churning. “I didn’t have a choice.”

He waited until she came to him, not violating Ellison’s territory. Deni felt herself drawn to him, though, as though she needed to go to him. Unnerving.

Tiger let his hand hover a few inches from her chest, as he’d done last night. “Something is wrong.”

Fear washed cold through her. “How do you know?”

“The mate bond.” Tiger closed his fingers over empty air. “It’s telling you.”

The logical Deni wanted to argue, to deny. The feral beast inside Deni knew. Jace was in danger.

Tiger pinned her with his yellow stare, then turned around and walked away. Deni’s heart beat faster, and she almost snarled when she felt Jackson’s warmth suddenly behind her.

She blinked, Jackson’s worried face coming back into focus. “I’m all right,” she said to him, drawing a deep breath. “I need to make a phone call.” She hurried into the house, found her cell phone, and rushed across the street after Tiger to ask for the phone number of Eric Warden and his son, Jace.

The snow leopard choked on the black smoke, paws scrabbling at the hole in the fuselage to find air, any air. He burned himself on the hot metal and snarled, but he needed to get his nose out of the plane and breathe.

More scrambling, using Shifter wildcat strength and huge claws to tear into the metal. His cat brain reflected that having someone like Ronan the Kodiak bear around would be very useful right now, then he went back to the task at hand. Human thought fled, and animal ones took over.

Hole wider. Heave from back legs, wriggle spine, pull with shoulders, scramble out. Jace landed on top of the wreckage—on the side of the plane that had tipped over—and tried to take a deep breath. Too much smoke. He had to get away.

The engine was burning merrily, and Jace’s cat nose smelled fuel. He needed to run, now.

A groan made him turn back, his claws raking against metal. A human lay in the wreckage, a lean man with a scraggly beard who was a little bit smelly. Marlo, his brain reminded him.

Jace was Shifter. He didn’t need a human slowing him down and returning him to captivity. Now was his chance to run, to be free, to find a place where humans would never hunt him down. He’d get word to his mate somehow, she’d come to him, and they’d live in blissful solitude forever.

Another groan. Jace’s ears went flat on his head, his cat instincts telling him to run and not stop. But he turned and lowered his body back into the wreck.

He found Marlo trapped under a pile of metal and junk, barely alive. Jace shoved at the debris, trying to reach him. Something in Jace’s brain told him to shift back to human so he could lift Marlo, but his body wouldn’t obey. Being animal was the best way to survive, so animal he stayed.

Fire flared high, and the temperature in the wreck doubled. The smoke thickened. Jace couldn’t breathe, couldn’t cough, could no longer see. He put his mouth around the back of Marlo’s neck and heaved.

The trouble with humans was they had no scruff. If Jace bit down too hard, he’d sever the man’s spine and kill him. Not enough, and he wouldn’t be able to carry him.

Jace finally got a decent hold on Marlo’s neck and shirt, and dragged him out from under the debris. With the last breath in his lungs, Jace clawed his way up through the hole again, weighted down by the extra body. He dropped Marlo on top of the plane, seeing that he’d cut gashes into the man’s neck.

Out here Jace could get his breath, but it was still tainted with the heavy smoke. Marlo lay unmoving, and Jace couldn’t tell whether he was breathing.

He got his jaws around the man’s shirt and neck again and scrambled off the wreckage to the ground. Once he felt the dirt under his feet, he ran, loping almost sideways as he dragged Marlo with him. Marlo’s feet bump-bumped over the dry Texas grasses.

When they were about fifty feet from the plane, the fire caught the fuel’s fumes and exploded. Fire washed over Jace, who threw himself on top of Marlo. Jace smelled his fur burning and drew in a lungful of volcanic air. Burning metal rained around them, sparking on the dry grass, which obligingly caught fire.

Jace hauled himself up, knowing he was on fire, and dragged Marlo down into the sparse rocks that lined a shallow wash. The wash was dry, no water under the blank blue sky, but it might protect them from the flames.

Jace dropped Marlo and rolled over the rocks, writhing desperately to grind out the fire in his fur. Marlo lay unmoving, bloody and burned, but he didn’t smell dead.

Now that he wasn’t burning alive and could breathe, Jace noticed all the hurts in his body, cuts from crawling out of the plane, abrasions and rawness from shielding Marlo. His left paw hurt like hell, a stinging pain that meant he’d cut himself deeply.

Jace rose stiffly from his crouch in the wash and looked around. The plane burned by itself in the middle of nothing. West Texas sprawled around them, empty as far as Jace’s leopard eyes could see. Someone likely owned this land, maybe it was part of a gigantic ranch, but out here, entire counties might have only a handful of houses in them.

Jace shook himself, aching all over, but he considered himself lucky. He hadn’t broken anything as far as he could tell, and though chunks of his fur had burned off and his skin smarted, he would heal.

His left paw hurt like hell, though. The last thing he remembered was clutching Deni’s bracelet as the plane hit the earth. Jace flexed the pads of his empty paw and looked back at the burning wreck. He’d dropped the bracelet. Deni’s bracelet, which he’d promised to keep safe for her. No.

He started to run back toward the plane before his leopard brain stopped him. Let it go. The mate bond wrapping him whimpered. That bracelet had been part of her, and she’d entrusted it to him.

Let it go. Think. Survive.

Flee.

Jace was free. No one knew where he was. When humans came to find the plane, they wouldn’t even know he’d been in it. He’d been smuggled goods. Shifters, including Deni and his family, would think him dead inside it. Deni would cry. So would his dad.

Grief bit at Jace, but in his cat form, survival came first. He scanned the ground again. The first thing he noticed was a coyote, thin-legged and mangy, waiting to see if the two from the wreck would die. Easier pickings than rabbits the coyote had to chase.

Dark specks appeared in the sky as well, circling higher as they spotted Jace looking at them. Turkey buzzards, big and black, they also waiting to see whether they’d feast today. This was the kill-or-be-killed wild out here, no rules in sight.

Jace snarled and rushed at the coyote. The flea-bitten beast snarled in response but fled. Not far, though. Out of reach of Jace’s charge, the coyote stopped and waited.

Jace growled his challenge. In spite of being half-burned and thrown around a wreck, Jace felt strong, more so than he had in a long time. The pain of his Collar was completely gone, and in fact, he couldn’t even feel the Collar biting into him anymore. He shook himself again and sat down to let his back paw reach up to his neck to scratch.

He stopped. His delicate back toes didn’t find a chain, burned or loose, or tight and whole. He swiped his neck with a front paw, with the same result.

Jace told himself to shift, to make sure, and he would—when he could remember how to. The leopard wanted to stay in this form, so Jace was staying in this form.

He writhed around, trying to find the Collar with each of his paws in turn, probably to the amusement of the coyote. Actually, the coyote didn’t care—he was simply waiting to see whether Jace would be food or danger.

No, wait—the coyote had vanished. Damn him, he’d been sneaking up on Marlo while Jace went through his contortions. The coyote darted in, ready to drag Marlo—or pieces of him—away to his pack.

Jace went for the coyote. Ears up, paws moving in perfect rhythm, Jace rushed the scavenger. He didn’t snarl or make any noise—he didn’t have to.

The coyote barely got away from Jace’s striking paw. Jace caught his tail with a claw, causing the coyote to yelp and run. Jace chased him, the leopard rejoicing in the hunt, until he realized that the buzzards had taken the opportunity to land near Marlo and see if there were any good pickings.

Jace turned and barreled toward the birds, who flapped away with slow disdain. He snarled this time, making his fur stand up so he’d be large and menacing.

He knew for certain that his Collar was gone when he finally stopped and planted himself near Marlo. He’d been ready to kill the coyote and savage its body, and the Collar hadn’t tried to stop him. Jace had mastered the meditation technique, yes, but out here, chasing away scavengers while trying to stay away from a burning plane, he hadn’t exactly been meditating.

The Collar was gone. Completely. It must have fallen off in the wreckage or while Jace had been dragging Marlo away from it.

That meant that somehow in the burning mess that had been Marlo’s airplane, Jace’s Collar had slipped off, every link of it, without hurting him and without making the world spin into insanity.

Jace sat, blinking, even his leopard realizing the enormity of it. Now, if he could shift back to human, find his way home, and try to figure out exactly how it had happened, all Shifters would benefit.

Or he could stay in the wild. For the first time in twenty years, Jace was free. No more Collar, no more rules, no Shiftertowns, just wind, earth, sky, and small-brained predators.

Free, he repeated.

The only thing that kept his triumphant wildcat from taking over and erasing his human thoughts completely was one word: Deni.

Jace would find her and free her too. Then he’d live out his life with her, the mate of his heart. No one in this wide wilderness would be able to prevail against a wolf and a snow leopard. He and Deni would be free to be alone together, mates in the wild, as Shifters were meant to be.

Even in this vast place, someone would have reported a crashing plane by now. The humans would be coming. Jace didn’t intend to let them find him here.

He grabbed Marlo by the shirt, dragged him closer to the burning wreckage, which would keep the scavengers away for a while, then turned and loped off into the tall Texas grasses. His paw still hurt him, but that was a minor inconvenience.

Eric hadn’t heard from his son all day, he told Deni, and Jace likely had his cell phone off. Eric was worried too, but Marlo’s plane was old and slow. It wouldn’t land in Las Vegas until late in the evening, but Eric would keep his ear out. He sounded plenty anxious, but tried to calm Deni’s fears, as a good Shifter alpha should.

Liam too reassured her. Flying under the radar took time, Marlo often stopped to refuel or lie low for a few hours. Marlo had a cell phone, but he wasn’t answering either, and he didn’t always.

After Liam left to open the bar in the afternoon, Deni paced, snapped at everyone, and got nothing done. Any pats on the back or calming words only irritated her. Eric and Liam were probably right—but Tiger’s words about seeing something wrong with the mate bond, plus the tightness in Deni’s chest made her half crazy.

Ellison left for the bar after Liam, telling Deni and his mate that Liam had called a tracker meeting. That meant trackers only—the Shifters who worked for Liam as bodyguards, investigators, or peacekeepers as need be. Ronan, Ellison, Spike, Sean, Tiger, and Dylan made their way there, leaving Deni restless and barely in control of herself.

At five, she couldn’t stand it anymore. Deni walked out of the house and down the block, making her way to the bar on the edge of Shiftertown.

The parking lot was already full. This bar was a popular stop on the way home from work for humans who liked Shifters. Groupies were already there, lounging about suggestively, waiting for Shifters to come looking. With the fight club shut down for a while, the groupies had decided to pile on here, it seemed.

The human bartender shot Deni a sharp look when she walked in. The other Shifters already there were cagey, but when Deni asked why, they didn’t have an answer. They knew something was up, but they didn’t know what. The trackers had gone into Liam’s office and shut the door, they told her, then all except Liam and Dylan had come out and left the bar. Where the trackers, including Ellison, had gone, no one knew.

Deni had no business confronting Liam, who wasn’t in her family and held plenty of rank over her. His tracker meeting might have nothing to do with her or Jace, or the police. Shit involving Shifters and Shiftertown happened all the time.

One of the groupie girls sat in a booth by herself, talking on her phone. And talking and talking. She’d look around, and then start talking again. If she wasn’t talking, she was texting.

The young woman didn’t look much different from the other groupies. She wore a short, skintight pink dress with mile-high black heels, had short dyed-black hair that had been cut into cute wisps, and she’d painted her face with cat’s eyes and whiskers. Her outfit shouted, Come and get me, Shifter, I like to purr, but her looks and actions spoke of extreme nerves.

After Deni had watched her covertly for a time, she realized another thing that made this woman different. The other groupies were eyeing Shifters hungrily, or sashaying up to them without shame. Most groupies were female, as many of the Shifters here were male, but some young male groupies were eyeing the male Shifters—and Deni—with the same kind of interest.

The young woman in the booth was doing her best not to catch any Shifter’s attention. Which made no sense if she dressed like a groupie and hung out in a Shifter bar.

Deni picked up the bottle of beer the bartender had slid to her and carried it with her to the booth. Deni plunked the bottle onto the table and sat down opposite the young woman.

The young woman jumped as though struck by sparks. Deni held her gaze, the girl trying to evade her eyes.

“That Shifter over there.” Deni pointed. “Broderick. He’s looking for some action.”

Whether Broderick was or not, Deni didn’t know, but the young woman’s reaction was telling. She flinched and didn’t look where Deni indicated. In fact, she moved a little so Deni would block Broderick’s line of sight from her.

“I’m waiting for someone,” the young woman mumbled. “Leave me alone, Shifter.”

“Yeah? Who are you waiting for?”

The woman stared at her. She had light blue eyes and smelled strongly of fear, and even more of anger.

“None of your business.” She had defiance her words and eyes, but her voice shook.

“Interesting,” Deni said. She snatched the woman’s cell phone from her hand and stood up.

The girl shrieked. “Hey, give that back!”

Deni stepped away from her reaching hands and scrolled down her list of recent calls. Only one had been made today, much earlier this afternoon, which meant she’d been faking talking to someone. Stalling. She’d made plenty of calls yesterday, though, and the day before that, and on into the previous week. All to the City of Austin police.

“Don’t think so,” Deni said.

Broderick turned around, scowling, not liking to have his beer drinking with his brothers interrupted. “Who the hell is making all the noise?” Broderick growled.

Deni ignored him. She swung away from the groupie lunging for her phone and went for Liam’s office door. This was too important for respecting Liam’s privacy. “Broderick, don’t let her leave,” Deni said, then was through the door and into the office.

Liam was on the phone at his desk, Dylan hovering next to him, listening. Usually Liam sat back here with his feet up, casually going over billing, invoices, payroll, and the like, but today he sat straight up in his chair, his hand over his eyes, and he was speaking rapidly into the phone.

“Have you pinpointed where?” he asked whoever was on the other end. “Well, damn it, find it.”

“Find what?” Cold washed through Deni, triggering the dizziness she’d been fighting all day. “Liam?”

Dylan came quickly around Deni and closed the door. “Keep it down, lass. We can’t let the world know.”

“Know what? Damn it, tell me.”

Liam glanced up at her, his face strained as he listened to the stream of words coming from his phone. He shot a look at his father and nodded.

Dylan took Deni’s hand between his, pressing warmth into it. “We didn’t want you to know until we were sure, Den. Marlo’s plane went down, somewhere in West Texas. We don’t know where yet, and we don’t know who survived.”