He’s my mate.

It was all Ivy could do to keep her hands tucked safely in her armpits. Her palms tingled—not with venom, but with a desperate hunger to reach out and touch him. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the paramedic’s elegant profile as he knelt next to Hope, checking her for injuries.

Normally, the sight of someone else near Hope caused her wyvern to fly into a jealous rage. But her beast was quiet, as intent on the paramedic as he was on his patient. Her wyvern didn’t mind that he was touching its treasure…because he was its treasure too.

And oh, he was beautiful.

His white hair gleamed in the dim corridor as if spun from moonlight. His skin was pale too, flawless as fine pearl. His high, sharp cheekbones could have been carved by Michelangelo. A strong jaw and chin balanced the elegant lines of his brow and nose, making his features unmistakably masculine.

For all his unearthly good looks, there was nothing delicate or fragile about him. She’d felt the strength in those swift, long-fingered hands when he’d saved her from falling. Even shrouded in the shapeless, bulky firefighter uniform, his shoulders were broad and powerful.

No one could ever call him merely pretty. He was beautiful, like lightning. He looked like an angel—but not the insipid Christmas-card sort. He was an avenging angel, filled with a fierce power so bright it hurt the eye.

And she was meant to be his mate.

No wonder he’d taken one look at her, and said Oh shit.

He hadn’t so much as glanced at her since. She tried to tell herself that he was just being professional, that he had to concentrate on Hope…but in her gut, she knew better. He was the most breathtaking man she’d ever seen, and she was…her.

Ivy, the wyvern shifter. The freak. Ugly. Unwanted.

Untouchable.

Yet he had touched her. The heat of his skin had seared her to her very bones. She felt like she would carry the invisible brand of his fingers around her wrist for the rest of her life.

He’d been in contact with her venomous skin for at least two minutes. And yet he was still alive.

Was it because he was her mate?

Her hands shook. She clamped down on them with her arms, hugging herself. A terrifying new emotion was growing in her heart, battling her wyvern’s ever-present rage.

Hope.

She thrust the unwanted feeling back down, trying to lock it away again. The naked dismay in those pale blue eyes had been painfully obvious even in the dimness of the elevator shaft. Even if he could touch her, why would he want to? Looking like he did, he could have anyone. He probably did have everyone he wanted.

Ours, her wyvern snarled. No one else’s. Our mate! Kill rivals!

Just the thought of someone else touching those perfect features had her inner wyvern on the verge of murder. Ivy swallowed hard, forcing back the burn of acid in her throat.

He doesn’t want you, she reminded herself savagely.

Her life—her sister’s life—depended on her being tough. She’d spent her entire life fighting the whole world, tooth and claw, in order to keep Hope fed, sheltered, and out of the foster care system. The lessons she’d learned on the streets were burned into her soul.

Never rely on anyone.

Never trust anyone.

And never, ever show a hint of weakness.

If he didn’t want her, well, screw him. She wasn’t going to beg. Letting someone know that you needed them more than they needed you was like handing them a loaded gun. No way was she giving anyone that much power over her.

“Ma’am?”

With a heroic effort, Ivy managed to tear her eyes off her mate—no, she couldn’t keep thinking of him like that. Turning away from the bastard, she looked up at the firefighter who’d spoken. It was the red-headed one, with the soft Welsh accent. The other one—a towering, dark-skinned man—had gone down to check that the crashed elevator hadn’t started an electrical fire.

“Here,” the firefighter said again, holding out a pair of gloves at arms’ length. From his wary stance, he knew full well what she was. “I think it would be a good idea if you put these on.”

They were clearly his gloves, part of his turn out gear. Ivy accepted them, being careful not to get close to his bare skin. The thick fire-resistant material dwarfed her hands, engulfed her from fingertip to elbow.

The red-headed man’s broad shoulders eased down a little once her skin was safely covered. “That’s better. I’m Firefighter Daifydd Drake of the East Sussex Fire & Rescue Service.”

“I know who you are.” Ivy didn’t let a hint of fear show on her face, although her heart was pounding. “You’re Alpha Team.”

There was only one all-shifter group of firefighters in Brighton. Ivy had run into Dai Drake before—though that time, he’d been snarling down at her in red dragon form. She’d met some of the other members of the team before too, under less than pleasant circumstances. Since then, she’d done her level best to avoid their paths crossing again.

Which, apparently, was exceedingly ironic. She forced herself to keep her eyes fixed on Dai rather than glance again at the gorgeous paramedic.

“I remember you too,” Dai said, in a tone of voice that made it clear he too didn’t relish the memory. “There was a large amount of property destruction involved on that occasion as well. I need to ask you a few questions.”

“Back off, Dai,” the bastard snapped, before Ivy could respond. He didn’t look up from his examination of Hope. “Leave my—patients alone. I’m not having you badgering them while I’m working.”

Had he hesitated, just fractionally? What had he nearly said instead?

Bastard, bastard, bastard, she mentally chanted, ruthlessly forcing herself to remember the look on his face when he’d first met her eyes. He’s an arrogant bastard, and don’t you forget it.

Unfortunately, it was kind of hard to focus on how horrible he was when those strong hands were treating her sister with such exquisite gentleness. Ivy had been forced to watch Hope stoically suffer through far too many rough, careless medical examinations in the past. A lot of doctors seemed to think that just because Hope couldn’t move her legs, she couldn’t feel anything in them either.

But there wasn’t even a hint of discomfort in Hope’s expression as the bastard carefully tested her limbs and spine. The usual drawn tightness in her face had smoothed out, as if for once she wasn’t in any pain at all.

“I don’t think you’ve suffered any spinal injuries,” the bastard said. Nonetheless, a slight crease marked his brow, as if something was bothering him.

Even his voice was beautiful. He had an unmistakably upper-class English accent, the sort that you only got by being born with a solid silver spoon in your mouth. Every cut-glass syllable just made it even more painfully clear that they were from completely different worlds.

“What the hell?” he muttered, apparently to himself. His long fingers hesitated at the nape of Hope’s neck. “What is this?”

Ivy’s heart skipped a beat with fear. “What’s wrong?”

“Apparently everything,” he said, still without looking up at her. “But whatever it is, it’s not from the fall. Hope, exactly what is your condition?”

“Motor neuron disease,” Hope lied, with the smooth ease of long practice. “It’s degenerative, and incurable. Don’t worry, I couldn’t use my legs even before I fell down an elevator.”

“Hmm.” The bastard sounded less than convinced. “You’re very young for motor neuron disease.”

“I’m just super-special,” Hope said cheerfully. “Can I sit up yet?”

“I’d rather put you on a body board, just to be safe. You should stay at the hospital overnight for observation.”

“No hospitals,” Hope and Ivy said in unison.

The bastard let out an annoyed breath. “Why does no one ever want to go to the hospital?”

“Must be your bedside manner,” Dai said, green eyes crinkling with amusement. Then his expression turned more serious. “Miss, you really should go to the hospital. They can take proper care of you there.”

“I can take care of her,” Ivy said sharply.

“You’re going to be needed elsewhere,” Dai said, voice hardening. “The police are on their way. They’ll take you to the station so you can give a statement.”

Ivy took an involuntary step back. “No. I don’t have anything to say to them.”

Hope struggled up to her elbows, shrugging off the bastard’s hands when he tried to get her to lie flat again. “You can’t arrest her! It was an accident, that’s all!”

“No one’s getting arrested,” Dai said. “Yet. But we do need to get to the bottom of what happened here.”

Cold fear gripped her stomach. Ivy knew that the shifters in the police force were just itching for an excuse to lock her up. There were too many officials who thought a wyvern was far too dangerous to be allowed to run around loose.

“No,” she forced out, through her tightening throat. “No police.”

Dai’s jaw tightened. “Ma’am, I’m afraid I really have to insist.”

Behind him, the bastard’s eyes flicked to Ivy’s. It was only for the briefest moment, but she had an uncanny certainty that in that fraction of an instant, he’d seen straight to the center of her soul.

And in return…

She saw him. Not the glittering surface, all sharp-edged beauty and sharper words. In those ice-blue eyes, she saw an aching loneliness, mirroring her own. She saw him.

Just for a split second. He jerked his eyes away from hers, as though whatever he’d seen had burned him.

“No,” he said, and for a moment Ivy wasn’t sure whether he was talking to her or his colleague. “No, Dai. Both these two have gone through quite enough for one night.”

Dai shook his head. “This is a major incident, Hugh. The police will need to carry out a full investigation.“

“Then they can start by chasing down the witnesses who apparently decided to leave an innocent girl dangling in a deathtrap!” The bastard rose to his feet in one lithe, powerful movement, squaring off against his taller colleague. “I’m calling a car to take these two to the hospital, or home, or wherever they damn well want to go. If you want to hand them over to the police, you’ll do it over my dead body!”

His unexpected words took all the breath out of her. No one had ever, ever leaped to her defense like that. Yet there he stood, jaw and fists clenched, ready to fight to protect her.

Mate, her wyvern said softly. Our mate.

“Whoa.” Dai held up his hands, eyes widening in surprise. “Calm down. If it’s your medical judgment that they shouldn’t be questioned tonight—“

“It is,” her mate snarled. “And if the police don’t like it, I shall cordially invite them to kiss my arse.”

Dai gave him an odd look, but backed down. “Well, in that case, let’s get them out of here as quick as we can. Commander Ash would not be amused by you starting a fistfight with the police over jurisdiction. I’ll go make some calls.”

Heart hammering, Ivy waited until the red-headed firefighter had disappeared down the stairs. She fidgeted with the too-big gloves, looking down at her hands. She had no idea what to say.

“Thank you,” she muttered.

Her mate nodded curtly, busy lifting Hope into the now somewhat battered wheelchair. He seemed to be trying to avoid meeting Ivy’s eyes again.

Our mate, her wyvern insisted. Claim him!

Ivy squared her shoulders, taking a deep breath. “I think maybe we should talk.”

“You heard Dai.” He knelt to do up Hope’s straps, gaze fixed on his task. “You need to get out of here before the police arrive.”

“I mean…later. Some other time.” Ivy noticed that Hope was giving her a very strange look, and rushed to add, “Uh, that is, so we can thank you properly. For saving us. Um.”

He straightened, his hands on Hope’s handlebars. He still didn’t quite look at her. “If you want to thank me, then there is something you can do.”

A surge of heat flooded through her at the thought of just how she could thank him properly. Her lips on his, those strong hands twining through her hair, running her hands over his naked skin…

“A-anything,” Ivy stammered.

He met her eyes at last…but this time, there was no crack in them. His pale blue eyes were cold and hard as ice, impenetrable and unfeeling.

“Never come near me again,” he said.