Branded by Fire

CHAPTER 4

Ice water in her veins. “Psy, human, or changeling?”

“No confirmation—call me the second you know,” he said. “One of the SnowDancers is already on the way to join you.”

“Why?” Her leopard bristled. “The Grove’s in our territory.”

“It was one of their juveniles who sensed something off when he passed through—”

“Hah,” Mercy said. “He probably came down to do mischief.” As DarkRiver’s official liaison to SnowDancer, there wasn’t much she didn’t know about the little turf war the cat and wolf juveniles—and young adults—were having. Anything that involved both packs and didn’t need an alpha’s attention went through her . . . and Riley. The bite mark on her neck tingled in sensory memory—she could all but feel his lips, his teeth against her sensitized flesh.

“Anything serious I need to worry about?”

Snapping back to the present, she shook her head. “No, they’re just blowing off steam, trying to figure out the hierarchy between themselves.” Both DarkRiver and SnowDancer ran disciplined packs—the younger members knew exactly how far they could go. “Maybe I can beat the SnowDancer to the Grove.”

“We’re allies.” Lucas sounded very patient. “Be nice.”

She knew he traded barbs with Hawke, the SnowDancer alpha, every time they met. “I will if you will.”

“Shut up. I’m your alpha. Go look and see what’s up.”

Hanging up with a grin that quickly faded as she considered what she might find, she hurried to throw some water on her face—the bath would have to wait until she had a few hours to relax. Though her muscles were still a little sore, it was nothing that would hold her back. She was a sentinel for a reason—she was fit, lethal, and well able to take down most men twice her size.

Not including Riley.

Her teeth bared at the way he’d pinned her—maybe she’d enjoyed it last night, but if the wolf tried to use that to change the balance of power in the sentinel-lieutenant relationship between them, things would get seriously ugly.

Her mind filled with images of him blocking her punches, trying not to hurt her. She squelched the tiny tendril of warmth that threatened to rise to the surface. Because if there was one thing she knew about predatory changeling men, it was that they weren’t good with boundaries—if she gave an inch, he’d take a whole country mile, start trying to protect her in the field.

Scowling at the thought, she wiped off her face, took a second to cover up a certain mark, then scraped her hair back into a high, tight ponytail before dressing in jeans, a plain white tee, and boots. Her cell phone was on the night table and she grabbed it on the way out, sticking it in her back pocket. The autumn air tasted crisp, sweet, almost too cold. She drew it into her lungs as she ran, ceding control to the leopard though she remained in human form. It knew instinctively where to put its feet, when to duck, when to switch direction because an easier path lay a little bit to the left or right.

It just felt like being.

Despite the bleak nature of what lay ahead, she was smiling when the first hint of scent hit her nose. Her stride faltered as she crossed into the large tract of land known as the Grove. “God would not be that cruel.” But he was.

Because there was Riley, running to meet her from the opposite direction. His expression was the by-now-familiar impassive one—the one that made her want to needle him simply to get a reaction. If she hadn’t seen that same face violent with passion, she’d have thought him an android. And for a predatory male changeling, especially one as dominant as Riley, that was some act to pull off.

“Coincidence?” she asked with saccharine sweetness.

His eyes—dark, intense, extraordinarily focused—went to her neck. “You can’t heal a bite that fast.” Cool words, but his jaw was a brutally hard line.

“Maybe I can.” And maybe she had really good concealer. “Let’s do this.” She swept left as he went right. “Anything?” she asked as they met on the other side of the rough circle.

“No. Another sweep.”

She growled at him. “I know what I’m doing. Don’t give me orders.”

Those oh-so-calm eyes didn’t so much as narrow. “Fine.” And he was gone.

That pissed her off. Which, she realized, was precisely the result he’d intended. Riley knew exactly how to push her buttons. Like he took a damn degree in antagonizing—She froze, sniffed the air, and picked up a scent that tied her stomach in knots. “Damn.” Putting two fingers to her mouth, she whistled.

Riley arrived a minute later. “Some kind of cat,” he said the instant he got close.

“Changeling lynx.” Crouching to confirm the scent, she shook her head . . . and caught a vague whiff of the “dead” smell that had freaked out the juvenile. Her soul chilled, even as the leopard whispered that that scent had never belonged to a person. “She’s here because there’s a wild lynx population in the area.”

Riley’s shoulders locked, his hands fisting. “She’s gone rogue.”

“I hope it’s not too late.” Mercy swallowed and rose to her feet. Rogues were changelings who’d surrendered absolutely to the beast, submerging their human half. If they’d turned into pure animals, it wouldn’t have mattered so much—yes, it would’ve broken hearts, but the lost ones would’ve been allowed to live out their lives in peace. But rogues were smarter, faster, quicker. And they liked hunting those they had once called family. But this one . . . “It’s a kid, Riley.”

The wolf looked at her out of Riley’s eyes. “You know her?”

“Willow’s family had to get the okay to be in our territory.” Predatory changelings had very strict rules. It kept the peace. And the most basic rule was—no going into another predator’s territory without permission. “Her parents work for a company that relocated to Tahoe.”

“How old is Willow?”

“Eight, I think.” She drew in a deep breath, attempting to locate the source of the fading spray of blood and death. “Something has to have happened to her parents.” She pulled out her cell and coded in a call to Lucas as they started following Willow’s trail.

“Mercy, you found—”

“It’s Willow,” she told him. “You need to get someone to check out the Baker house.”

Lucas swore under his breath. “Nathan drove out that way early this morning. I’ll get him to go in.”

She hung up as Riley motioned he was going left. Nodding, she went leopard-quiet as she circled right, sensing Willow was close. But it wasn’t the girl she found. It was the body of what had been a small wild dog. Small, but muscled. “She’s very close to the point of no return if she did this.” Thank God it was a true animal, not a changeling. If the girl had killed a person . . . There was no coming back from that.

Riley crouched down beside her. “Girl didn’t eat the flesh. This was pure rage.”

“Poor baby.” Her heart clenched—what could’ve driven a little girl to this? “She can’t be far. The scent’s too strong.” Making a quick decision, Mercy began to pull off her boots. “I’ll have an easier time with her if I shift.”

Riley nodded. “I’ll stay downwind.”

“Good idea.” A wolf would either terrify or antagonize the girl in her current state of mind. “Turn around.” Changelings weren’t prudes about nudity, but now that Riley had seen her naked in very intimate circumstances . . . well, things were different. And that irritated her. “I said, turn around.”

He folded his arms and leaned against a tree, those chocolate-dark eyes watching her with unblinking focus.

Oh yeah, Riley knew just what buttons to push. But she wasn’t a cat for nothing. “Fine.” Shrugging, she ignored him to strip with changeling efficiency, balling up her clothes and shoes to cache in the tree.

“I’ll do that.” Riley’s voice sounded from behind her. Then he put his hand on her shoulder.

Sizzle.

The electricity generated by that simple contact continued to rock through her, even as she whacked off his hand. “No touching.” The cat swiped at her, wanting more, but she gritted her teeth and held on, knowing if she didn’t set the ground rules now, Riley would push and push until something snapped. The man did obsession better than several of the leopards she knew.

“Give me the clothes.” His anger was quiet, a gathering storm beneath the smooth surface he showed to the world.

Figuring he’d had an unwelcome surprise in her refusal to allow skin privileges, she thrust her things into his hands—“Fine, knock yourself out”—and shifted. Agony and ecstasy, pure pleasure and excruciating pain. All over in an instant.

Riley knelt down, clasping the fur at the back of her neck. “You’re fucking bruised all down your back. Why the hell didn’t you tell me it hurt?”

Because it didn’t at the time, genius. Snapping her teeth at him, she pulled away and headed toward the lynx. She was aware of Riley falling slightly behind as he took care of caching her clothes, and then his scent faded altogether. Which reminded her. The girl would hardly appreciate sensing Riley in her fur. She paused to roll around in some fresh leaves, crushing them to overlay his scent with the mingled echoes of the forest.

That done, she made her way very, very carefully to the little grove that appeared to be the end of the scent trail.

The wild lynx saw her first. They greeted her with soft growls and went about their business when she made no “go away” sounds. Willow was sitting in the middle of a group of lynx cubs. Except she was bigger, her eyes different, unique. The way she held herself, the way she smelled, it all marked her as changeling. Walking over, Mercy batted away the other cubs, careful not to do harm.

They padded off, though an impish few tried to nip at her legs. One growl and they scattered. Willow didn’t move. That alone set her apart. Instead of challenging the girl, Mercy sat down beside her, crowding her against a tree. Willow’s little frame was cool against Mercy’s side, her heartbeat not as ragged as it should’ve been.

The poor cub was in shock.

Mercy just sat there, let Willow know she was safe, protected by someone bigger and stronger who wouldn’t hurt her. It took time but that shocky little body eventually relaxed a fraction. Then another. She felt the girl snuggle into her and breathed a sigh of relief—if Willow recognized and saw comfort in her, then she wasn’t beyond saving.

Half an hour later, Mercy decided it was time for the next step. Getting up, she turned and nipped at Willow’s ear. The lynx cub made a startled sound and scrambled up on all four feet, eyes wide. Holding that wary gaze, Mercy shifted.

Willow was still in lynx form when Mercy hunkered back down, her hair cascading over her shoulders. Damn, she’d forgotten to take out the hair tie. Not only that, the concealer was gone. Everything disintegrated during the shift. Even tattoos had to be done with special ink that bonded to their cells in some weird way she didn’t particularly want to explore—it was enough that the two she bore didn’t have to be redone after each shift.

“Hey, baby.” She stroked her hand over Willow’s head, flattening those adorable tufted ears.

The girl butted up against her but resisted shifting.

“I know you’re scared,” she said, kneeling so she could pull Willow into her lap. “But I’m here now and I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

The girl lay motionless against her heartbeat.

Mercy’s throat threatened to close at the vulnerability of the child in her arms. “Come on, Willow. I need to know who hurt you so I can help.” Strokes through baby-soft fur, kisses on a cold little nose. “You’re safe.” She put all her dominance into her voice. It was considerable. She was one of the highest-ranking members of either DarkRiver or SnowDancer. For this lynx girl, that made her commands close to impossible to disobey. “Shift.”

And Willow did.

Mercy didn’t move a muscle as the cub disappeared into the magic of the shift, the sparkles of color bright and joyful. An instant later, a little girl scrambled off her lap, crouching down opposite her. Her eyes were huge with hurt. “They took Nash.”

“Your brother?” Nash, she knew, was a student at MIT but he had visiting privileges to DarkRiver land.

A swift nod. “They came and they hurt Mommy and Daddy and they took him.” Willow swallowed hard, and it was clear she was trying desperately not to cry. “My mommy and daddy wouldn’t wake up.”

Oh, hell.

“Willow, sweetheart.” She stroked a hand over the girl’s ash blonde hair, careful with touch now. Changelings were funny about some things. And while the cub may have had no problem with cuddling, a little girl wouldn’t allow total famil ial skin privileges to someone who was almost a stranger. “I’m going to call a friend now. He’s a wolf.”

Willow stared at her, hurt and terror momentarily trumped by astonishment. “A wolf?”

“Yeah.” She shrugged. “I know. But he doesn’t bite”—lie—“so don’t worry.”

Willow didn’t look particularly convinced, but she stayed in position as Mercy whistled. Riley appeared within a minute—with her clothes, boots, and phone. Grateful, she got dressed. When Riley shrugged off his T-shirt and offered it to Willow, the lynx hesitated.

“Don’t worry,” Mercy said, unable to stop staring at the claw marks on his back, “wolf germs wash off real easy.” Damn, she’d scratched him hard. It made her cheeks burn to realize how far gone she’d been.

Willow took the T-shirt after a few more seconds and pulled it on. It covered pretty much everything. And they might be changeling, but sometimes, with strangers, they were human, too. The girl stood up and met Riley’s gaze, showing a courage that made Mercy’s cat growl in silent approval. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He glanced at Mercy, a question in his eyes.

She gave a slight nod. “You tired, kitten?”

Willow shook her head. “I rested a lot.”

But she’d run a hell of a long distance from home. Still, the girl was a predatory changeling. Smaller than a leopard, but a predator nonetheless. They had pride in spades. And this one had earned her right to that pride. “All right. Give me a sec and we’ll be off.” She coded in Lucas’s number.

“Mercy,” he answered. “We have Willow’s parents. Alive.”

“How?”

“Tranqs. Heavy-duty.” A pause as if he was discussing something with another person. “Couple of pack medics living nearby are giving them the once-over, but they should be on the road soon. Bring the cub to Tammy’s.”

Hanging up, she smiled at Willow. “Your mom and dad are okay.”

A flash of hope followed by distrust. “They wouldn’t wake up, and they smelled really bad.”

On occasions like this, a great sense of smell could screw things up. Especially for the little ones. “Someone drugged them—it made them very sleepy.”

Willow bit her lip.

“This is a waste of time,” Riley said. “She can see for herself when we get there.”

Willow nodded like a little machine.

“Come on then,” she said, wondering if the kid realized she’d just sided with a wolf, “time to run.” She went in front, Willow in between, Riley at the back.

When the kid began to flag, Riley simply picked her up, swung her onto his back, and kept running. Willow held on tight. The leopard in Mercy growled in approval—whatever his faults (and they were many and legend), Riley knew how to take care of the innocent.