Six

Rider stood behind the fence that separated the offices of Cedar Valley Speedway from the track, watching Rod work the crowd into a frenzy with nothing more than his microphone. Everybody’s favorite hometown DJ sat on the platform, trading barbs with Barb.

The stands were nice and full, and Waldo had been completely on board for a friendly challenge before the main gig started. The bikes would tear up the track before the cars had a chance on it. But Waldo liked to stir things up for the racers. Made them work harder for it, made ‘em tougher, he said. If they want a babybottom-smooth track, they can go on over to county. Where the uppities ride.

Rider spotted most of the Dirt Track Dogs crew over in their section of the stands. Surge was racing later, and so was the alpha’s mate, Ella. But for now, they were all hanging around to watch their vixens.

Blister held his little girl on one hip. She had the proper baby-ear protecting headgear. Annie, his mate and Aaron’s twin sister… who also happened to own Red Cap, stood next to him, chatting with Tana, a werecat from the Ouachitas. She’d mated into the pack, and ran her own construction crew. Rider had worked with her building a few of the moto-jumps.

Beast, the biggest of the dogs, carried his toddler, Artie, on his shoulders while Surge and Tana’s little girl, Gracie, ran circles around him, taunting the boy from below. Beast’s mate, Punk, laughed at the girl’s antics. She rubbed her belly where it bulged over the top of her jeans. She was pregnant with their second, and just starting to show.

Ragan and her boy, Kit who was just a little older than Gracie, were over there too. Kit laughed so hard his face was red, and his mama looked both worried and pleased.

Rider watched the crew. They were a family, all of them. And they were enough to make anyone envious. He’d always thought he’d have kids of his own one day. But Evie had wanted to wait. He was so glad they had.

He looked over at Adam, where he sat with Megan past the fence. He was arguing with Seraphina while Mac stared between the two of them like a referee. Losing her mama had been hard on the girl, on them both. Rider could have had that kind of pain to deal with if he had pushed Evie for kids.

That thing about unanswered prayers… he thought there was something to it.

Now the race for whether or not Barb would hear her song on the radio was about to go down, and Sally was already out on the track cutting up.

Rider watched her, his sunglasses in place just in case anyone caught him staring too hard.

Their encounter at the motel had shaken him to his core. How fast everything had come out. How much he’d shared with her about the past. How much she’d trusted him with her secrets. Maybe it was like this for shifters. Aaron said once, that when they know, they just know. All that talk about forever, like his friend could just know it was true. Rider had thought it was bullshit.

But now…

Well, now he wasn’t sure.

He’d decided to take this thing slow with Sally. They had time, and both of them still needed to get their heads sorted. He was taking this time at the track to just fucking breathe. Because if he thought too much about what he wanted with her, it would lock him up with all those old insecurities.

The bastard past. He’d find a way to put it behind him somehow.

Evie. She was gone from his life. Now he wanted her gone from the dark recesses of his heart. She had no right to it anymore.

Sally revved her bike, sending the crowd roaring at the braaapp braaapp of the engine.

“Whewwwww, baby!” Rod howled over the speakers. “Hear that, Princess Barb? You don’t stand a chance out there tonight. I hope your little princess tears don’t make tracks in the dirt down your cheeks.”

Barb nodded, jaw cocked in a shit-eating grin. “The only one leaving this place crying will be you Hot Broad Turner, when you have to play that anthem of patriotic love-lotion on the radio tomorrow. I love my Sinful Sally…” She bumped a fist to her chest and held it out to the track. “…but let’s just be real. I’m winning this. This is happening. And Cedar Valley is hashtag lurving it.” She did a fake mic drop and that dumbass chicken dance she liked to do with her arms.

Rider smiled in spite of himself.

“What do you think?” Waldo asked coming up beside him and resting his meaty arms along the fence. The man was like a father to Rider. Had raised him after his parents died in the forest fire of ‘94. “Think ol’ Barbie’ll win her bet?”

“Naw. Sally’s got this one. Sure thing.”

Rider looked over and caught his uncle’s raised eyebrow. “That right?”

Rider nodded.

“Well, I gotta put my money on Barb. I always did like that old song she’s fightin’ for.” He whistled an offkey chorus of God Bless the USA, making Rider cringe.

Yeah, Uncle Waldo’s tone-deaf whistling brought him back to childhood. The man had done good by him. Been the best father figure he could. And now Rider helped him at the track whenever he needed it.

There was true love there.

Even if the two never hugged it out.

“Damn, uncle,” Rider drawled, pretending he didn’t love hearing him sound so lighthearted. “That song’s old as fuck. Older than the fossils of your caveman granddad.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you might be old if you like a song older than the dirt underneath this track. I think you’re creeping up on old-geezer territory. Gotta get you a cane. Some geriatric vitamins. What else? Let’s make a list.”

“Now listen here, boy. There ain’t a goddamn thing wrong with agin’, ya hear? You think you got a lotta time, but da’shit flies by…” Waldo started, but he caught Rider’s smirk. “Aw, you’re teasing, ain’t ya? Been a long time since my boy felt like teasing. What’s gotten into ya anyway?”

Rider sighed, staring back out at Sally. “Can’t say, uncle. Just feeling like things are changing, that’s all.”

Waldo grunted. “Yeah. Well, good.”

The siren announcing things were about to start on the track blared overhead and Rider felt the familiar adrenaline rushing through his veins. He loved race day. Always had. He was raised a racer, and it helped keep him sane during some of the worst times of his life.

Rod’s voice could barely be heard over the rumble of engines prepping for what would come after the bet was settled. “Awright. Here it is, folks. Five laps flat. No tricks.”

Those would come later when the vixens took their bikes to the jumps Rider and Waldo had built for them. Those ladies could really wow the crowd out there. Motocross was their element, though they got the asses off the seats for flat track racing too.

“First one to the finish line wins. No do-overs. No whining. This settles it once and for all. Y’all ready for this?” Rod held his microphone toward the crowd, but they were loud enough already. “Awright, then. Let’s go. Ladies, you ready?”

Sally and Barb revved their engines, poised at the start.

“May the best woman win tonight,” Rod called. “And may it be the one racing for me and the reputation of classic rock all over the world. Amen.” He nodded to the track official, and the five second warning was given.

When the go-flag went up, the vixens were off, spitting dirt and mud in all directions. So much of it you couldn’t see them for a solid twenty yards. Rider gripped the fence as they hammered it down the straight, looking like they wouldn’t slow enough to round the first turn.

But they made it, both riders kicking their inside leg out to keep their balance as their bikes leaned so close to the ground it seemed like they’d tip. Sally dug a rut deep enough to get lost in and then came out ahead on the next straight.

“Track’s too soft.” Rider’s voice was lost in the noise, but Waldo must have come to the same conclusion because his frown took up his entire face.

On the second turn, Barb cut Sally off on the inside, sneaking into the lead and spraying enough dirt at her she had to peel a layer off her mask just to be able to see.

They zoomed past Rider and he could feel their wind even though they were quite a distance away. On the straight, they grinded past Rod where he was furiously shouting for Sally to get her ass in gear.

But Rider knew what she was doing. The vixen was playing games. Biding her time until she could rip the victory from Barb’s grasp like it was candy from a baby.

He grinned. So like Sally.

Rounding the corner, she expertly missed the ruts forming in the clay. Barb fishtailed, but handled the machine like a pro, coming back up to Sally’s exhaust.

“Yeah, babayyyy!” Rider hooted, jumping up on the fence, fists in the air.

Going down the straight she had a full bike lead between them. But Barb caught the inside again on the turn and took the lead once more. Round and round they went, trading places because they were two of the fucking best.

Coming into the final lap, they were neck and neck. The ruts were getting bad, drying in the heat of the evening sun that baked the track. Barb bumped one, and had to slow on the turn, leaving Sally to gain the lead again. The crowd went wild, and Rider’s throat hurt from screaming.

It looked like Rod was going to get his way. Poor Barb.

As they went down the straightaway, Sally increased the gap between her bike and Barb’s. All she had to do was maneuver the next turn and it was in the fucking bag.

A chill of foreboding rolled up Rider’s spine a split second before his mind registered something was wrong.

Sally was slowing down for the turn, but not fast enough. Her body wasn’t loose like it had been the entire run. She was rigid as she neared the end.

Rider’s gaze shot to the track in front of her, looking for anything that would have her board-stiff on her bike.

“Aw, shit. Fuck!”

There was no path that could avoid the ruts. Huge clumps of hardening dirt were scattered across the entire track and the grooves from the tires were at least shin deep. Maybe more.

Fine for cars. Fucking not, for bikes.

If she hit one…

No if. She was going to hit one. And when she did, it was going to send her airborne. And not in a way that she could land with some moto-trickery.

Everything moved in slow motion.

The crowd on their feet, breath suspended.

Sally jamming the brakes even knowing it would crash her.

Front wheel jerking sideways when it hit the ruts.

Her bike responding, going ass up, into a convoluted pike.

Air beneath her. So much air.

Bike flying one way, her body another. End over end, both of them.

Her, like a ragdoll. It, like a rigid slinky.

The crunch of metal when it landed before she did. And the sickening slap of leather… body… bone hitting the dirt as she followed it down.

Rider couldn’t breathe. The adrenaline in his blood, choking him up like his rib cage was a vise. Ears pounded with the terrified screams from the crowd. Somewhere, a baby cried.

And real-time came hammering back with a boom he felt in his chest.

Rider jumped the fence, running before his feet even hit the ground. Had to get to her. Boots digging into the mud, heart so full of fear it could barely beat, he closed the distance between them. 

He wasn’t the only one charging the field—there was Drake and Beast and Lexington and Ragan and others—but he was the only one who needed her to fucking be okay. Needed it more than his own goddamn breath.

Be okay, be okay. Fuck, please.

Panic was all he knew as he pounded across the track to Sally.

Drake got to her first, and Rider wanted to rip his eyes out because it wasn’t him. Then Barb, who’d laid down her bike when she couldn’t bring it to a stop fast enough for her liking. She jumped off it and hit the ground running, ripping her helmet from her head and tossing it aside. By the time Rider made it to the other side of the track, a circle of bodies surrounded his vixen.

“Sally, baby… Sally?”

He shoved Beast aside—or maybe he just moved on his own when Rider pushed him because the dude was Hulk-huge—and elbowed his way through the small crowd.

Barb knelt on the ground, hovering over Sally.

“Keep her covered,” Drake said, “like we practiced.”

Through the panic, Rider vaguely remembered the crash protocol the shifters, and all the humans-in-the-know, had practiced. If an unmated shifter wrecked in a race, everyone was supposed to make a barrier between them and the crowd in case they were hurt bad enough they had to shift. If they were mated, it was a little easier. Get the mate close so they could use the mating bond to heal.

But none of that mattered right now.

“Sally?”

She lay on her back. Barb had removed her helmet. Her arm was bent at an odd angle. Her ankle too. Her eyes met Rider’s but there was no sign of the woman he’d gotten familiar with in the utility room. They were feral, glazed with pain, and oddly inhuman.

Her fox. He was looking at her fox. And goddamn, even like this, the vixen was beautiful.

Sally tried to talk but only whimpered, sounding just like a hurt animal. Her face flickered, narrowing just a touch, before it was normal again.

“Shh,” Rider told her, “It’s okay. It’s okay. Gonna be okay.” But he didn’t know if he was lying or not.

“She’s trying not to shift,” Barb said. “But she’s hurt too bad. We have to get her out of here so her animal can heal her.”

“Shit,” Drake muttered.

The sirens from an ambulance whirred far away somewhere.

Rider stared at Sally, broken and bleeding on the ground, and his heart split fucking apart. Mine. He heard it like a whisper in the back of his mind, growing louder and louder until he wanted to scream it.

Yeah, they were just starting out, but it didn’t matter. Sally was his. She was the only one who made him want to try. Made him feel… good enough. Made him feel… okay enough. And he wasn’t letting this take her away.

Fuck that real hard.

They said mating bonds could heal a host of hurts. Physical and otherwise. Well, he didn’t know how she felt about mating, or even how it worked at all. But he knew she was important enough to be his. And if it could help her now, he’d do anything.

Any. Fucking. Thing.

Crowding in close, he peeled the glove off the hand of her good arm. He could see her fangs elongating to poke out from her mouth as she panted through the pain. He brought her limp hand to his lips, kissing the back of it. He rubbed it along his cheek, nuzzling her fevered skin.

He wasn’t ashamed to admit he’d watched Aaron do this with Lexington. It had looked like an animalistic thing to do. Like a cat rubbing on its owner. Maybe it would help convince Sally’s fox they were mates.

Rider pressed his palm to hers, linking their fingers together like he had in the utility room. Her claws were already forming. If she shifted in front of this crowd, they’d all be in trouble. His friends, her family, DTD…

He leaned over her, nudging Barb back, and put his mouth next to Sally’s ear. “Mine,” he growled, putting every fractured piece of his heart into that declaration. “Mine. Understand, vixen? You’re going to be mine, and that means I’m fixing you. You can thank me later.”

“That… Rider, that’s not how it works,” Barb said carefully. “Her fox chooses her mate.”

His glare snapped to her. “Don’t give a fuck how it works.” But Sally squeezed his hand, grabbing his attention again.

She tried to talk, her stilted breath not letting her, but she nodded instead. Barely more than a shift of her chin, but it was enough to encourage him to keep trying.

“Okay, baby.” He brushed her hair from her eyes, staring into those foxy orbs like his life depended on this working.

Hell… it did. That was the realization he’d had running over here.

Nothing like a catastrophe to make your heart realize it was wasting time.

Rider cradled his hands around Sally’s face, holding her gaze and letting her see everything he was feeling right through the window of his eyes.

“I see your fox, Sally,” he whispered, “and she’s… amazing, the way she’s trying to heal you. And you know, I think she likes me.”

His face inched closer and closer to hers. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, falling into the dirt beneath her head.

“I know it hurts, baby…” he breathed, shuddering with so many emotions, it felt like there was no way they could all be his. “I know, I know it does. Tell me when it gets better.”

He pressed a careful kiss to her lips. This had to work.

He did it again. And again, licking at her mouth where she panted for relief. He kissed her countless more times, letting everything around them fall away. It was just him and a werefox he needed to convince that he was the one.

And maybe it was him hoping, but he was sure something moved between them. His insides quarreled, nervous as fuck for what he was sensing. Something different than he’d ever experienced.

Like Sally was open to him. Like he could see inside her heart and could feel her… sense her presence inside of his.

And it didn’t feel altogether pleasant. No, it stole his breath and cramped his middle. It fucking hurt. Why did it hurt?

He kissed her harder, this time feeling her respond. Her lips moved against his now, her tongue flicking. Slow. Careful. But there nonetheless. He felt her fang snag his lip, but he didn’t let up. Not now.

A soft rumble vibrated between them. Purring. His fox was purring.

Rider wanted to cry with relief. Wanted to do Barb’s stupid little chicken dance. But he kept his mouth pressed to Sally’s, afraid to stop, and never wanting to anyway. Because even if opening like this hurt, it was better than anything he’d felt in his life.

“Holy shit,” he heard Barb murmur. “It’s working. Get her boots off, the ankle needs straightening before it starts to heal. Careful, Lex. Yeah, just slide it off.”

“I brought the back-up clothes in case she shifts.” Seraphina’s voice came from behind him.

“Open her jacket too,” Ragan added, her voice wobbling. “They need more contact.”

Barb worked Sally’s leather open, but Rider focused on their connection. The purr. The feel of her.

The… bond.

This was the mating bond growing between them. And if this was what Aaron had felt with Lexington, then it was no wonder he was a changed man.

“Ragan’s right, Rider. Run your hands over her body. This is going to hurt like a dirty-bitch before it gets better. Sally, hang in there. Badassing the hell outta this one, girl.”

Rider started at her neck, moving his hand slowly over her jaw, across her sternum. Sally tensed, crying into his mouth and he jerked back. Her eyes had gone completely foxy. Her fangs had grown longer. Her claws sharper.

She was partially turned. Shit.

“It’s okay, mate,” she garbled, her voice not altogether human.

“Keep going,” Barb urged him. “Her wounds are healing, and I can tell you it’s painful. But it will get better.”

Okay. Shit, okay.

“Hold on, baby,” he whispered, dropping kisses to her cheek while he ran his touch along her broken arm. Feeling her flinch under him made him want to rip his heart out and hand it to her. God, it was hers now. If she ruined it, he’d just stay ruined forever.

Pathetic? Maybe.

Did he give a fuck? Naw.

“Back…” Sally groaned.

“What?”

“B-Back… up. Can’t… hold it… in.”

Barb froze beside them. “Shit, Rider. Back up. She’s got to shift.”

He felt the others crowd around them tighter, but he managed to put some space between him and Sally.

“Damn it.” Barb maneuvered Sally’s leathers down her legs while Lexington got her other boot off. “She’ll need pants if she’s able to be human again.”

But when she reached Sally’s broken ankle, the pain became too much.

With a small, almost undiscernible pop of pressure, Sally transformed into a small red-furred fox. Her nose and the tips of her ears were darker, almost black, and paler fur ringed her eyes. The same eyes he’d been staring into seconds ago.

Rider blinked at the sudden change but inside he was practically purring with satisfaction. This was his. The woman, this vixen. She called him mate. He called her mine. And whatever the hell came from it… he was in.

He was allllll the way in.

Sally the vixen stared at him warily. Like she wasn’t sure how he’d react to the animal side of her. She whimpered, pawing the ground to scoot closer.

She was still hurt. Still needed him.

Somehow, Rider knew what to do.

He reached for her, sliding her into his lap and sinking his fingers into her soft, thick fur. She curled against him as he cradled her closer, running his hands all along her body.

“I got you, Sally,” he murmured, pressing his face into her neck. The fox smelled like her. Sweet and sugary. Like candy. “I got you.”

Seconds ticked by while he just held her, petted her. She rubbed her face against his, the purr growing stronger. He could sense she was growing stronger too. She no longer winced when his hand brushed her paw.

Her tongued darted out, licking his neck, and Rider knew she was going to be okay. She might need to rest and recuperate, but his vixen was going to be fine.

And so would everyone else.

If he could get her to change back to human.

The sirens were close now, alerting him the ambulance had arrived.

“Sally, baby…” he whispered in her ear. “You need to shift back. We gotta get you standing so they don’t try to cart you away to the hospital. Let the crowd see you.”

But she kept licking his neck like she didn’t hear him.

“Come back to me, vixen. The faster we finish here, the faster we can be alone.”

More purring, more rubbing.

“They’re coming,” Drake said, a dominant edge to his voice. “Come on, Rider. Get your girl to change.”

But Rider didn’t have to do anything. In the next breath, Sally had shifted. She lay naked in his arms breathing heavily and glaring at Drake.

“Are you in pain?” Rider asked, looking her body over and finding half healed bruises spattering every part of her skin he could see.

“Not much.” Her voice shook when she answered, and she sounded pissed as hell.

“Let’s get you dressed.”

Seraphina tossed her a tank top, and she pulled it over her head. Rider yanked it down to her waist as she was already pulling her riding pants over her legs. Barb shrugged off her jacket and handed it over, while Ragan scooped up the tattered scraps of Sally’s and hid them under her arm.

They were like a choreographed dance, and he wondered how many times they’d practiced for this. How hard it must be to have to constantly hide who you were from the world.

Rider found his feet, linking his arm around Sally’s waist and helped her up. The people around them dispersed to reveal the crowd in the stands, waiting with bated breath to see how Sally had fared.

The moment they saw her standing, a roar of applause filled the air.

“Aw, yeahhhhh,” Rod’s voice boomed from the speakers. “She’s all right, folks. Never doubted ya for a minute, Sally.”

Rider walked her toward the fence where the paramedics were waiting. She limped a touch, but by the time they’d crossed the track she was walking steady.

“Drake will take care of my bike,” she croaked. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Sure thing.”

Rider met Waldo’s curious gaze as he passed, and the old man gave him a nod.

Yeah… his uncle had it right. Wasting time was stupid. And he’d wasted enough.

He was going to take Sally somewhere quiet, and get familiar with his fox.

His mate.