Feral Heat

One of the cops was looking their way. The man waited a beat or two, then started for them.

Jace gave Deni a small shove toward the motorcycle. “We’ve got to go.” Another push, moving her another step. “Only for a few miles. Once we’re off their radar, we can switch.”

“I can’t ride in this.” Deni gestured to herself, the fabric wrapped around her body. She had, in fact, ridden in a sarong before, but the wind would be cold and chafing. Maybe he’d take pity on her and find someone else to take him to Shiftertown.

Jace slid out of his denim jacket and draped it around her shoulders. That left his torso bare, but he didn’t seem the more vulnerable for it. “You can wear this.”

The jacket held his body heat and his scent. Deni closed her eyes. She looked for something peaceful inside herself, a place she used to be able to find. Jace would be with her. He’d make sure they reached Shiftertown. She willed herself to believe.

“Now,” Jace said in her ear.

Deni jumped, but his voice galvanized her. She took a deep breath and started to swing her leg over the bike.

It got stuck halfway. Deni’s heart thumped—hurry, hurry—but she couldn’t make her leg go over the seat. She clenched her muscles, willing her body to obey, but she was shaking, her breath leaving her.

Jace swarmed onto the bike behind her, shoving her leg all the way over with his. There, she was on, with Jace wrapping his warm, bare arms around her.

The motorcycle was big—Liam, who owned it, was a big man—but Shifter women were tall. Deni could ride it.

Deni trembled all over as she started the bike, her body brushing back against the solid warmth of Jace’s. The motorcycle rumbled beneath them, the deep throb of a well-tuned Harley, which let every vehicle near it know what a powerhouse it was.

Jace tightened his arms around her, pretending to have to cling hard because he was drunk, but he turned the hold into a steadying one. Deni relaxed a little, enough to glide the bike forward, lifting her feet smoothly as they went.

The narrow road back to the highway was dark, rutted, and unnerving. The headlight sliced through blackness, the Texas night vast. Far ahead, tiny lights marked where other Shifters were driving away.

Deni started to calm even more. Her body instinctively knew how to balance the bike, how to guide the big machine, even when the road was rough. Her panic lessened, but then, out here, there were no other cars, no city streets, no humans running their vehicles into Shifters and ruining their lives.

Jace’s arms around Deni, his warm body at her back, reminded her of their wild coupling, beautiful for all its brutality. Jace had a tall, strong body, one Deni would be willing to climb again. And again. Deni wished she and Jace could be truly alone, racing down the road, nothing on their minds but the wind, stars, and what they’d do together at the journey’s end.

They reached the highway, the traffic sparse. Deni swung the bike to the right, heading for the lights of civilization. Austin glowed on the horizon, the city beckoning.

Deni had grown to love Austin and its quirkiness—the music, Sixth Street on a Saturday night, bars that ranged from upscale to shabby honky-tonks, the bats emerging every sunset from the Congress Avenue Bridge, the town’s sense of being different from everyplace else in the world, even from the rest of Texas. Deni had found something like happiness settling here, with her brother, Ellison, and her sons, Will and Jackson. Not the greatest existence, living in Shiftertown, but at least they were together.

And then the bastard human, who’d been involved in some nasty business regarding Shifters that Ellison and Deni had helped clear up, had deliberately run down Deni on her motorcycle, robbing her of control and any sense of tranquility. Tonight, coupling with Jace and now having him hold on to her was the closest she’d come to finding peace again.

Deni turned onto the 183 and headed north. She was sure Jace would tell her to pull over any minute so he could take over the driving, but he didn’t. Jace kept his arms around her, his body leaning with hers as she made the turn and joined traffic.

Deni started to shake again as traffic thickened, cars and trucks surging around them to head for Austin from points east of San Antonio. Jace’s warm hands moved on Deni’s belly, as though he knew she needed his reassuring touch. Deni felt a little better, but when they reached Lockhart, she pulled off to a gas station.

“You can take over now,” she said, sliding off the helmet.

Jace didn’t dismount. “You’re doing fine. Keep going.”

“Jace, come on. I’m scared. The wreck really messed me up. The guy who did it was trying to grab me—he was kidnapping Shifters.”

Jace’s eyes narrowed. “I heard about him. He didn’t get you though, right?”

“Only because there were too many other people around. He nearly killed me.”

“But he’s dead now.” Jace spoke with conviction. Dylan must have told him some of that story.

“Yes.” Deni swallowed, her mouth dry. She wondered if Dylan had told Jace exactly how the man had died, and Deni’s part in it. “My mind knows that I’m safe, but my instincts don’t. The wolf inside me hasn’t fully processed it yet, I guess.”

Jace kept frowning. “I see that. But I’m right here with you. Show yourself you can do it. Don’t let him win.”

Deni wanted to—she truly did. Her brother had given her similar advice: Don’t let the ass**le take everything away from you.