Feral Heat

Marlo did his checks, started up, checked some more instruments, waved at the ground crew, and taxied out to the grown-over airstrip. The two men at the tiny shed waved back, then returned to the pickup that had brought Jace and drove away.

Marlo sped the plane down the little runway, bouncing over ruts, then lifted off without much of a bump. The plane flopped around a little as they climbed, buffeted by the winds Marlo had mentioned, but soon they were running in a fairly smooth layer of air. The city of Austin spread out to the north of them, hugging the river and its hills, the river country receding to a streak of vivid green in the otherwise dry Texas brown.

Jace opened his hand and studied the bracelet resting in his palm. Delicate, yet strong, like Deni was. He rubbed his thumb over the smooth gold, determined to see her smile at him when he brought it back to her.

He growled. Jace already missed her like crazy, and the wildcat in him snarled at him for walking away. The torn skin on his neck hurt again, the soreness making his beast that much angrier. Whatever mitigating effects being in Faerie had given him must be wearing off.

Interesting about that. Jace let the bracelet trickle over his hand as he thought. Maybe they should try taking off the Collars inside Faerie. Then again, what if inside Faerie Shifters behaved normally and then went insane when they walked out once more?

Jace let out a sigh. He’d been full of enthusiasm about removing the Collars when he’d come to Austin, but things had changed. He no longer wanted to risk himself for what might be. He had something to lose now. If the Morrisseys wanted to experiment with the Collars so much, they could, as Fionn might say, suck it up, and test it on themselves.

His gaze returned to the bracelet, and he imagined it still warm from Deni’s wrist . . .

The plane bounced once, hard, as though it had hit some kind of airborne speed bump. Marlo shouted, “Whoa!” and grabbed for the stick as dials started spinning.

“Whoa, what?” Jace yelled over the engines that had started to roar. “You can fix that, right?”

“Shit,” Marlo said. He added quickly, “Nothing to worry about—this has happened before. I need to set down. Help me look for a place.”

“Nothing to worry about?” The plane was heading downward, leaving Jace’s stomach behind, everything in back banging and clattering. Another bump shook the plane, which nosed harder downward. The small airplane gave a profound rattle and smoke poured out the left-side engine, flames licking the wing. “The engine’s on fire!” Jace shouted. “You call that nothing to worry about?”

“The wind will put it out. Help me look!”

“Aw, crap on a crutch,” Jace snarled.

He wrapped his hand around the bracelet and held it hard, as though it were a link to Deni herself. Goddess, Goddess, great and good, Jace began the ritual prayer, then gave up trying to remember the words. Help me. Let me be with Deni again. I feel the mate bond, for crying out loud.

The warmth in his heart he’d told himself he didn’t yet have time to think about, now suffused his body. Saying good-bye to Deni had been one of the hardest things Jace had ever done. Jace had been ripping out his heart and walking away bleeding, but he’d made himself do it, believing leaving was the right thing to do.

The mate bond meant you gave yourself to that other person, body and soul. You protected them; they healed you, and you healed them while they protected you. Jace didn’t know if Deni felt the mate bond for him—sometimes both parties didn’t share it—but he remembered the look in her gray eyes before he’d left her.

She had to feel it. They’d grown from acquaintances to lovers to mates rapidly, but it often happened like that with Shifters. Shifters formed the mate bond, then they got to know each other—throughout their long, happy lives.

And now, with Marlo fighting this tiny bird, fire whipping around the wing, and the flat ground of West Texas coming up fast, Jace might never move beyond knowing the mate bond had settled in his heart.

Tiger told me not to let you go.

Tiger, damn his crazy, striped ass, had been right. He might not have predicted this, specifically, but he’d known Jace should have made sure he stayed next to Deni and figured things out from there.

Something cut his palm. Jace opened his hand and saw he’d clutched the gold bracelet so hard it had pressed into his skin.

Jace clenched the bracelet again and shook his fist at Marlo, the ends of the chains dancing. “Fix this damned thing. I’m taking this back to her.”

“You are f**king crazy, Shifter. I need a landing strip, or I’m not fixing anything ever again.”

“Shit,” Jace said. He’d been scanning the ground, but what did he know about good places to put down a plane? Then he saw it, a flat stretch of land, unbroken, a dirt road without an oil well at the end of it. They were low enough now that he could see the way wasn’t full of rocks or hidden washes. “What about that?”

“Good enough for me.”

The plane was rattling with bone-jarring intensity, something popping in the back like a row of fireworks. Jace prayed it wasn’t really fireworks.

The road came at them, Marlo desperately pulling at the stick to lift the nose enough. The wheels were down, at least, because Marlo had never pulled them up.

“Hang on!” Marlo yelled.

To what? Jace braced himself on the instrument panel, trying not to look at the dials going around and around.

They hit the road with an upward burst of dust, grinding it so thick it coated the windows, blocking their visibility. That was fine, because grass and whatever huge weeds this part of the state grew came up out of the ground and bashed into them, winding around the burning engine and spewing the flame higher.