Summary: Lorel Maddox just wants to live as a human, run her bakery in peace, and forget. Unfortunately, the alpha of the local leopard pack has very different ideas.
Remi Denier doesn’t know what to make of the female Changeling who wants nothing to do with him or the RainFire pack. He does know that he has a driving need to protect her. Even if it’s from herself.
While they’re embroiled in a battle of wills, there’s a war brewing on the horizon. The outside threat could not only destroy everything they hold dear, but tear apart the fragile new bonds of the Trinity Accord, plunging the world into bloodshed to rival the Territorial Wars of centuries past.
Summary: Lorel Maddox just wants to live as a human, run her bakery in peace, and forget. Unfortunately, the alpha of the local leopard pack has very different ideas.
Remi Denier doesn’t know what to make of the female Changeling who wants nothing to do with him or the RainFire pack. He does know that he has a driving need to protect her. Even if it’s from herself.
While they’re embroiled in a battle of wills, there’s a war brewing on the horizon. The outside threat could not only destroy everything they hold dear, but tear apart the fragile new bonds of the Trinity Accord, plunging the world into bloodshed to rival the Territorial Wars of centuries past.
Word count: 2925
Hearth Fires Masterlist
CW for self-consciousness due to body size and shape and shapeshifters hunting
Beta read by the exalted @pandabearer
The ocelot has the most wonderful tangle of stripes, bars, chains, spots, dots and smudges which look as though they were put on as the animal ran by.
-Author Ernest Thompson Seton, 1929
Remi made his way to the coffeemaker by memory alone, not bothering to crack an eyelid until he got some caffeine. Even if he wasn’t awake, part of him was already up and at ‘em. Despite having taken matters into his own hand twice when he’d woken in the middle of the night, he still woke sweaty, frustrated, and hard.
The source of his frustration padded sleepily down the stairs as he was taking that divine first sip, the giant, poofy bun on top of her head bobbling slightly with each step. He nearly swallowed his tongue at the sight of her bare legs, pink shorts only just covering her ass. Her face was still soft with sleep and eyelids still heavy. Mouth kicking up at the corners, he raised a brow at the black sweatshirt that said, “I’m a cat.” The hood hanging down her back had triangular ears.
“It was a gift from my aunt,” muttered Lorelei, fists twisting inside the cuffs.
“Cute.” He drew one tie over his finger to examine the tiny paw at the end; it even had tiny, pink pads. Scowling, she snatched it back, blush staining her cheeks.
“Coffee?”
“Um, no thanks.” She peered hopefully around him and into the kitchen, then appeared disappointed when she didn’t seem to find what she was looking for. Right, she preferred tea. Giving himself a mental smack for the oversight, he made a note to have someone stop by her house and get it.
“What?” he asked when she wrinkled her nose.
“What did your taste buds ever do to you to deserve day old black coffee?”
He turned his mug so she could see the horizontal lines at equal intervals. They were labelled with: No Talking, Shh, Not Yet, and Now You May Speak. He raised a brow and tapped the one that said No Talking.
She giggled. The sound was bright, effervescent, and utterly out of place in his kitchen. And he fucking loved it as much as, if not more than, the way she stared at his bare chest.
Opening one arm for a cuddle, he watched her with hooded eyes, daring her to make a move. She watched him warily, her caution irritating him. It only made sense for a submissive in the lair of a strange predatory alpha, but it didn’t mean he had to like it.
“I’m only offering skin privileges. That’s all I expect. You can’t pretend you don’t need skin-to-skin time.” He ran the back of his knuckles along her cheek and her lashes fluttered shut before she shook her head slightly, like a kitten shaking off wet, and pulled away.
“Uh huh,” she folded her arms and eyed him skeptically. “And what do you get out of it?” It was clear she was under the misconception that many humans had: that predatory changelings were only interested in sex for the act itself. Yeah, he wanted her with a burning desire; he wanted the whole sweet and spicy package.
“Same as you,” he shrugged and turned to place his mug on the counter. “Feed the touch hunger.” He saw that abused animal that lived within her take another step forward and he went predator still to avoid scaring her off. “I’ll only say this once: as your alpha it’s my job to look after you, to take care of your needs. Understood?”
“I’m not a child,” she rolled her eyes. “Don’t condescend to me.”
“No, you’re not.” He let his eyes drift down her body in blatant appreciation. “Stop trying to bury your needs; they’re a part of you.”
“I don’t know how to do this.” The sleeves of her hoodie twisted in her hands. It was no surprise she didn’t know how to play. He’d had to learn himself while roaming, he would teach her.
“You tell me where your boundaries are, or you can touch me and I’ll stop you if I need to.” Not that she was likely to do anything he wouldn’t like. Sheer force of will kept his hands gripping the counter behind him to keep from hauling her to him. “If you won’t accept skin privileges from me, then go to someone in the pack.” It was only the certainty he had that she wasn’t likely to do so, or at least not with another man, that allowed him to get the words out. It would tear him up to watch her take from someone else what she wouldn’t accept from her mate, but if it was the only way to meet her needs, then so be it.
One tiny step forward, then another, and she stood between his sprawled legs, one hand splayed over his heart. It was a wonder the pounding of the organ didn’t disturb her; he was almost afraid to breathe for fear of spooking her.
“There now, did that hurt?”
“No, but I could arrange that.” Smoky blue eyes narrowed up at him, but the quirk to her pink lips said that she was playing.
“Now, cher, you keep talking like that and I’m going to do things that’ll really make you blush.” Giving into the urge, he cupped the back of her neck in one hand and stroked the warm, velvety skin of her throat with a thumb. He felt her pulse jump at the touch and her mouth parted slightly on an inhale.
Soft hands petted his chest. She rarely touched him, and he savoured it every time she did, but the animal was riding him too hard to allow him to relax under her touch. Chaining himself with steely self-control, he enticed her with gentle, coaxing kisses. The tension thrumming through her eased and she relaxed against him, finding her own pleasure in exploring his mouth with hers.
When he pulled away, her lips were swollen and pupils dilated. “More,” she growled, pricking him with her claws.
“Easy now, no need to rush.” It would be easy to take her when the cat was riding her, but that would hurt her when she was more herself. This mating dance had to be a slow hunt.
In a blink, she pounced on him, wrapping her legs around his hips. He caught her jaw in one hand when she lunged forward; he wasn’t sure if she intended to kiss him or tear his throat out.
“Shh, bebe.” Turning, he set her on the counter to give them a little space and stroked his hand down her back in the hope that the contact would continue to feed her touch hunger without stimulation and help bring her back to herself.
“Oh God, did I hurt you?” Clarity returned to her expression and one hand rose to her mouth and she stared at his chest in horror, even though the faint marks were already healing.
“We’re not human. Our rules are different, they have to be. We’re not always going to be civilized. When the animal’s at the fore, when emotions are runnin’ high. If you want to use me as your personal scratching post, you just have to ask nicely first, chat.” Cats liked seeing claws on their women.
If he told her that he’d been hurt worse while playing with the juveniles, doing so would bruise her burgeoning acceptance of her changeling half. Being herself without being punished for her very nature. An alpha should never hurt those who looked to him. He’d learned that lesson in the most painful way possible.
Lorelei wished the earth would open and swallow her whole; she was an uncivilized monster. The broken, twisted ocelot didn’t know how to let him go, wanted to dig her claws in and never let him go. She was about to make some excuse to retreat when he said, “Let’s go for a run.”
“I’m not a runner.” She scrunched up her face. She’d never managed to find a sports bra that could adequately support her generous breasts.
“On four legs, not two,” clarified Remi. Her cat sat up in interest at the prospect of a playmate.
“No, I can’t. You don’t understand, I can’t control it. I’m not strong enough.” The already healing marks she’d left on him were proof enough of that.
“Stop lying to yourself. Keeping your cat caged has consequences. Stop denying the animal. It’s another part of you. Are you ever alone without your ocelot? It works the other way, too; she’ll never be without you, either.” His gentleness threatened to strip her to the soul.
“Ok.” Fiddling with one of the hoodie’s ties, she followed him out to the deck, which was damp and her bare toes curled away from the wood.
If she was going to learn how to live as both her halves, it was time to start. And if she was being completely honest with herself, she was a little ashamed of herself for punishing her animal half after seeing how the pack lived. She couldn’t keep severing parts of herself in hopes of acceptance that would never come from her family.
He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his sweats, and she spun away with a gasp. “What are you doing?”
“No point in destroying perfectly good pants.” Did he sound amused?
“But people can see!” she squeaked.
“You’re in a pack, cher.” His rich laugh was like a caress at her back. “Best get used to it.”
“You know what, I changed my mind. You go on without me.”
“When was the last time you shifted? Last week?” It was when she’d had Tien over for tea, albeit the change had been inadvertent. “That’s too long.”
“Nobody wants to see this.” She gestured to her body. And certainly, nobody who looked like he did would want to see her fish-belly pale rolls.
“There’s no cause for shame.” Coming around to face her, he gently manacled her wrists in his hands and slowly lifted her arms from her body. She could have broken free, but she watched and waited to see what he would do. “This is you and we see you for who you are. You could be one hundred or three hundred pounds and it wouldn’t matter. Nudity just is, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. Besides, anyone stares at you and I’ll claw their eyes out.”
Squirming, she muttered, “Just turn around.”
Shifting her weight from foot to foot, she stood there a moment longer. Then after glancing over her shoulder to make sure his back was turned, she huddled closer to the door where it would be more difficult to see her from the ground. First, she removed her shorts then the hoodie. The change went smoothly since she didn’t want to stand around nude while negotiating control between the human and cat.
The world snapped into sharp focus with the added dimension of scent, even stronger in animal form than in human. Padding softly over to face Remi, her ears didn’t know whether they wanted to flatten against her skull or swivel to focus on him. Tail tucked tightly to her body, she waited for his response.
Beyond a general idea, she had no idea what her animal looked like. The only people who’d seen it were her grandparents; while she was aware they were prejudiced and she knew she wasn’t filthy nor did she stink, it was suddenly very important that he at least find her acceptable. The woman in her didn’t need a therapist to analyze the root of that.
“Mais, cher, t’es très belle.” She didn’t understand what he was saying. It was apparent in his awestruck tone, the way he cautiously raised a hand as if to stroke her, even though she hadn’t given him that privilege. She arched into his touch with a purr.
With that, he stripped off his pants with quick efficiency and shifted before she could process anything more than an expanse of sun-bronzed skin, the dimples at the small of his back, muscled columns of his thighs… A cascade of multi-coloured motes coalesced into a leopard. If she’d thought Remi was big as a man, he was huge as a leopard; his tail alone was nearly as long as she was. Nearly five times her size, he was glorious in his richly patterned pelt of black and gold.
Giving her a look, he jumped off the edge and she followed. What had seemed a daunting height to the woman was a fun jaunt for the ocelot. On the ground, he butted her with his head, nearly toppling her much smaller form over. She shook herself and glared up at him. Huffing a laugh, he nudged her more gently in the direction he wanted to go.
As they wound through the forest, it felt like her soul was taking its first deep breath in a long time. From the top of a ridge, they watched a bear lumber by. He took down a grouse and they shared it for breakfast; he snorted at the way she fastidiously cleaned her portion of its feathers. Afterwards, she licked a bit of blood off of his muzzle and in return, his tongue took half her face in one swipe.
Some distance from the Glade, he showed her an interesting scent she’d come across in her yard before, but never could figure out what it was. He watched her expectantly, then looked in the direction the animal appeared to have headed. Did he want her to track it?
She followed the trail with the giant leopard padding along behind her, not seeming to pay her much attention, focusing instead on watching their surroundings. Every so often, she would circle back to brush up against his side.
He nudged her up a tree and away from the trail, but she didn’t want to stop tracking. Huffing in laughter at her displeasure, he headbutted her, nearly lifting up her smaller body. From midway up the hickory, she saw the elk. They sat on a branch, tails twining, and watched the herd until it moved on.
The leopard wanted to play. The ocelot watched him warily at first, which was hardly surprising since his cat was three times her size. He needn’t have worried because once she relaxed, she pounced onto his back. Wrapping her paws, claws sheathed, around his neck, she nipped at his ear and then leapt away as he dropped to his side with the intent to roll.
Ocelots were jumpers and she was no exception. She jumped onto a low hanging branch and groomed a paw, ignoring him. Crouching low, he launched himself. His greater weight set the branch to rocking and she sank claws into the wood to keep her seat. Head hanging low between his shoulders, he stalked towards her. She crouched low, belly almost to the bark, and watched him approach. Disappointment that the game was over already washed over him. A blur of warm gold and black darted between his legs, underneath him, and skittered up and around the trunk like a demented squirrel.
Chuffing in amusement, he allowed her a head start before taking after her. She was noisy as hell and had only the barest idea of how to hide her scent; it was a wonder she’d ever managed to hunt anything. None of that was important at the moment, the alpha filed that away for later. Now was time to play.
Hiding, on the other hand, was where she excelled. She ran through hollowed logs, climbed limbs too slender to hold his larger mass, and slipped through bolt holes too small for him.
She wasn’t familiar enough with the area yet to realize he was herding her closer to the central area where the cubs played. Loping along, she was too busy glancing over her shoulder to keep an eye on him to see the cubs upwind of them.
She skidded to a stop in a flutter of leaves.
“It’s Lo’el!” cried Jojo.
“And Remi!” Darin exclaimed.
“Oh, she’s my size!”
Shimmers of light burst around the clearing and formed into little leopards. Coming up behind Lorelei, who’d frozen in place, he headbutted her gently. Stumbling, she glared at him, ears flat and to the side. The distraction worked to break her out of her fear. A moment later, small furry bodies swarmed her, delighted in a grown-up playmate who was close to their size.
Wide-eyed, she went down under the assault with a yelp as Jojo bit down on the very tip of her tail, getting only the fur and shaking it back and forth. He let them swamp her with play bites and bat at her with gentle paws for a little while before coming to her rescue. Cubs tumbled or danced out of his way, then doubled back to charge at or pounce on him. He swept his tail lazily back and forth, providing an irresistible moving target.
Despite how overwhelming the little ones could be, it was plain that she adored them, and they loved her in turn. Cubs trusted submissives implicitly and she especially would take care of their big, open hearts.
Her own heart had its bruises, but it meant she understood his own scars, and that she would fight tooth and claw for everyone in the pack. She would never allow anyone to be neglected or taken advantage of.
Mais, cher, t’es très belle - wow, love, you’re so pretty (roughly, the exact translation would be a little weird in English)
Summary: Lorel Maddox just wants to live as a human, run her bakery in peace, and forget. Unfortunately, the alpha of the local leopard pack has very different ideas.
Remi Denier doesn't know what to make of the female Changeling who wants nothing to do with him or the RainFire pack. He does know that he has a driving need to protect her. Even if it's from herself.
While they're embroiled in a battle of wills, there's a war brewing on the horizon. The outside threat could not only destroy everything they hold dear, but tear apart the fragile new bonds of the Trinity Accord, plunging the world into bloodshed to rival the Territorial Wars of centuries past.
Word count: 2056
Hearth Fires Masterlist
Beta read by the inestimable pandabearer
Lorel hummed along to the bluesy song that twined with the smells of dozens of sweet things filling the air. Swinging her hips slightly from side to side, she counted out the day’s totals to figure out what to bake tomorrow. The maple pecan cupcakes were sold out, as were the pear sticky buns. Maybe she’d switch it up for the weekend and make chai cupcakes and maple sticky buns.
As she tallied, she mentally designed an upcoming wedding cake order. The couple wanted silver accents, which was in vogue and nearly to the point of tired and overdone. Maybe arabesque flowers outlined in a royal blue and the silver? She could gild the edges of sugar paste flowers. Would it be too on the nose to mimic the flowers in the bride’s bouquet?
The door opened almost soundlessly. One of the first things she’d done was rip the bell off; the jangling was hell on changeling hearing. Finishing up the note she was in the middle of, she turned around to greet the customer.
“Hi, how can I help you?” The chirpy greeting died off as her nose caught up.
Spices like cinnamon, nutmeg, and vanilla had temporarily masked the threat that had snuck up on her. A threat that smelled like moss and oak, and a dominant predatory changeling male. Her blood turned to ice water. The power of him filled the shop and had her animal in a crouch, waiting to see whether she should run or would have to fight. She wiped her palms on her apron and plastered on a smile that probably more closely resembled a grimace.
The stranger scanned her with a coolly appraising eye from the top of her frizzy hair to her flour-dusted hands. She froze in place and avoided eye contact by focusing on his right shoulder while still watching him like a rabbit he’d decided was dinner. Fear spiked in her scent, strong enough that even she could smell it over the mixture filling the place, and he could probably hear the thundering of her heart. He turned, locked the door, and turned the sign to closed. Her cat was clawing at her to run far, climb high, but she was too busy doing her best impression of a deer in headlights to pay attention.
His presence, reinforced by his actions, could only mean he wanted one of two things: either he wanted her gone or he wanted her for himself.
“Ms. Cain, I’m Remi Denier, alpha o’ the RainFire pack. Please, ‘ave a seat so we can talk.” The bayou dripped like Spanish moss from his words. He pulled a chair from one of the bistro tables by the front window and gestured for her to take the other seat. He was laying the southern gentleman routine on thick.
“It’s Maddox now, and I’m comfortable right here.” The strained pitch to her tone gave lie to the statement. It did not bode well that he knew her birth name; she shifted her weight in preparation to dash out the back door.
“Ya won’ get very far, Ms. Maddox." His brilliant topaz eyes flashed gold in stark contrast to his mild drawl. The alpha, and he certainly looked the part at somewhere over six feet with line-backer shoulders, sat where he could watch both the front door and the one that led to the kitchen. He stretched out long, jeans-clad legs; he was making himself at home. On her turf. “I ‘ave de alley covered.”
“What did I do to deserve such an honour, Mr. Denier?” she asked crisply and folded her arms. While she wouldn’t stand a chance against a predatory changeling alpha determined to hurt her, that didn’t mean she would go down without a fight. She just had to wait for her opportunity.
“You’re in my terr’tory.” His eyes had gone leopard-gold. Shit. Heart hammering, she felt her cat settle into a crouch in preparation for a pounce. Adrenaline dumped into her bloodstream and she wanted to bare her teeth at the threat, but strangled the urge before her lips did more than twitch.
“No pack can control a mixed-race city, and your border ends at the Madison-Haywood line.” Their boundary was the next county over; she had made certain before she took over the bakery. The hard look in his eyes said without words that the cat didn’t care about semantics.
“RainFire does now. Say, could I get a cup o’ coffee?” His accent was so thick she could practically cut it with a knife.
“Sorry, I’m not in the habit of feeding strays.” The acerbic retort popped out of her mouth before she knew what she was saying. Swallowing, she dropped her hands to fist at her sides in preparation for a full shift and not just to hide the talons that had sprouted from her fingertips.
Remi Denier didn’t attack, didn’t even growl. To her utter consternation, he laughed. The sound was rich and filled the bakery like the tones of a brass bell. Her cat sat back on its butt and cocked its head in confusion.
“We’re small and growin’, jus’ expanded our claim last month,” he explained, spreading large hands wide. And she had purchased the shop five weeks ago, which was when she’d checked that no shifter groups had marked the area as theirs.
“I took over this place before that. I won’t be run off my land.” Said land wasn’t even an acre in total, and it was technically just the home she shared with her aunt since the storefront was on a lease, but it was hers. Every survival instinct screamed at her to stop challenging him, even as her animal was pacing in circles, waiting for the right opening to go for his throat.
“I never said not’ing ‘bout chasin’ you off. Jus’ like knowin’ who’s in my terr’tory,” he shrugged and hooked an arm around the back of the seat. The relaxed posture didn’t fool her one whit; one didn’t become an alpha without catlike reflexes.
“You already know that if you know my name.” She folded her arms again and leaned back against the counter behind her.
“Lack o’ criminal record don’ mean much.”
“Not much to know,” shrugged Lorel. “Raised by my human grandparents, some university, bounced around some, and then my aunt wanted to retire. But you probably knew all that already.”
“You were born into the RedRock pack.” Her stomach sank.
“I was just a kid, I don’t remember much.” She leashed the need to snarl at the alpha. She couldn’t expose any potential weaknesses; if he thought she was hiding something she’d never get rid of him until he uncovered it. Damn cats.
“Never joined another pack.” A statement, not a question. Meaning he already knew the answer, he just wanted to see if she would lie to him.
“Never saw the need.” Rounded shoulders rose and fell jerkily instead of in the fluid way they should have moved in feline changelings. Remi filed that away the same as he had the talons that appeared when she’d thrown out the crack about strays. It wasn’t the first time he’d been called that, and no doubt it wouldn’t be the last.
“Never felt need for family?”
“I have family.” Lorelei gestured around the bakery that had been her aunt’s. While she couldn’t make eye contact, the hard ice in her voice hinted at a hidden backbone, a reminder that submissive was not synonymous with doormat.
“But do they understand you?” That spine, which was already rigid, snapped so straight he worried it would snap under the strain. Judging by the white lines bracketing her mouth she probably wasn’t about to reply any time soon, but the lack of an answer was an answer in itself.
If he was a better man, he’d feel remorseful about baiting a woman so far down the hierarchy she didn’t even risk a glance at his eyes for fear he’d see it as a challenge. As it was, he only felt a twinge of guilt. The most extensive background check in the world couldn’t tell him how she would react under duress. Being cornered, no matter how temporarily, with a strange, dominant predatory changeling alpha was an effective stress test for most people.
“Unless you’ve got a sweet tooth, I think you’ve wasted your time, Mr. Denier.” Her folded arms shifted, pushing her breasts up even higher until they nearly spilled over the heart-shaped top of her apron. Instead of plain black canvas, hers was an ice blue that brought out the colour of her eyes, with cupcakes decorating the full skirt and ruffles of the same fabric edging the bodice.
“Hmm…” He gave her a slow once-over. Damn if she didn’t look like a treat herself with generous curves and freckles sprinkled generously over her creamy skin. “Not worth the cavities.” The cat laughed as her jaw dropped in affront at the deliberate provocation.
“I promise I’ll only stick to the woods in this county, and I’ll let you know if I have to cross through your territory,” she said firmly, recovering quickly from the barb. “I just want to run my business and not cause any trouble.”
Her cat was no doubt pissed he’d invaded her territory, but her eyes never flashed gold. Other than the tiny shift to claws briefly, her other half never surfaced; as an alpha, he could tell. If he hadn’t known beyond a doubt- and his nose never lied- what she was, he wouldn’t have guessed that she was changeling. A few slips on her part were to be expected under the circumstances, which was a large part of the reason why he was there in the first place; he needed to see how she reacted. But the sheer amount of control she had was bizarre for someone who had only lived among humans.
“How ‘bout you join RainFire?”
She gaped at him.
“No!” she cried once she realized he was serious. Remi waited for her to elaborate upon her refusal.
“Why not?” he asked when it was obvious nothing else was forthcoming. She continued to stare at him as if he were a few bricks shy of a load.
“Leopard,” she said slowly, pointing to him. “Ocelot,” she pressed one hand over her heart. Each word was carefully pronounced.
“DarkRiver has a jaguar and a lynx, we have a tiger. The old way of thinking was hurting more’n it was helping. No room for that in RainFire.” Lorelei seemed genuinely taken aback by that; she must have deliberately avoided any and all news touching upon changelings. “Is it because of what happened at RedRock?” Women typically didn’t respond well to his bluntness unless he was seducing them, and by her full-body flinch, Lorelei It’s-Maddox-Now-Thank-You-Very-Much was no exception to the rule.
“You want an honest answer?” Thin ginger brows climbed up her freckled forehead. When he nodded, she pushed off the counter with muttered “fine” and a deep sigh.
“I just want to be left alone and nothing you can say will change my mind.” Hands on her hips, her pink lips pursed into a bow that was probably poutier than she realized.
“You’ve managed pretty well on your own, sticking to mostly human areas.” When he stood and stretched to his full height her breathing and heart rate quickened, but otherwise she gave no sign of being intimidated. “How well do you think you’ll do now without pack to protect you? On your own, you’re prey for psy, changelings with a ‘tite more dominance on you, even humans if they're cunning enough.”
“Is that a threat, Mr. Denier?” Her face was a bloodless mask, yet she held his gaze with a hard stare of her own. The contact only lasted as long as it took a heart to beat, but he felt electricity shoot through his body. It wasn’t entirely sexual, despite his reaction. There was something off about her he just couldn’t put his finger on.
“No, but this is.” The scent of fear sweat filled his nose, stronger than before. “You’ve got one month to either join RainFire or leave town. Au revoir, Ms. Maddox.” With a shallow nod of his head, he strode out the door and into the warm autumn afternoon.
Summary: Lorel Maddox just wants to live as a human, run her bakery in peace, and forget. Unfortunately, the alpha of the local leopard pack has very different ideas.
Remi Denier doesn’t know what to make of the female changeling who wants nothing to do with him or the RainFire pack. He does know that he has a driving need to protect her. Even if it’s from herself.
While they’re embroiled in a battle of wills, there’s a war brewing on the horizon. The outside threat could not only destroy everything they hold dear, but tear apart the fragile new bonds of the Trinity Accord, plunging the world into bloodshed to rival the Territorial Wars of centuries past.
Word count: 3685
Hearth Fires Masterlist
Beta read by the precious @pandabearer
The small, green valley was thrown into early twilight by the forested mountains that protected the Arrow settlement. The children were playing their hearts out, as if trying to eke out that much more life before the day’s end. Judd Lauren, inarguably a lethal blade of a man, made a mix of cubs, pups, and psy give chase before allowing them to swarm him. Remi shook his head; he was still amazed that the assassin was capable of laughter, let alone could play with children with such care.
“I’ve asked around and a couple of other packs around the country are experiencing the same issues, mostly in places where there was already anti-psy sentiment. Word is they’re running militia training camps,” he said to the man who led some of the most dangerous people in the world. “Have the psy been having similar problems?”
Before Aden could answer, a baby leopard bounded up to bat playfully at Remi’s boots, tail swishing back and forth. He scooped up the cub for a tap on the nose and a quick cuddle before sending her off to rejoin the game.
“No,” Aden answered when they were alone again, watching his wife clean up the aftermath of a sugar-fuelled feeding frenzy. Even though Halloween was still a few weeks off, Zaira had brought candy; the cubs and pups enthusiastically introduced their psy playmates to the concept of Halloween and trick-or-treating. Remi suspected she didn’t grasp the concept of the holiday and was just using it as an excuse to spoil the children. Heaven knew the baby Arrows could certainly do with the occasional spoiling, and she knew that better than anyone.
Envy sank its claws into him. The Arrow pair weren’t mated in the changeling sense, yet they had an unbreakable bond that was obvious even to the non-telepathic races. He yearned to know what it was like to be so intimately connected with someone who suited him on every level. A predatory changeling alpha needed a mate by his side, someone who knew when to bend and when to show their claws, someone who would help their pack grow and thrive. He wanted someone he could trust enough to let his guard down and just be. No duties, not dominant, not alpha, just Remi.
Compared to most alphas, he’d taken some time to wake up to his alpha instincts. Once that need overrode his reservations, he’d gone about it with the laser-like focus of an apex predator. However, there were some aspects he hadn’t anticipated. At first, some of the women tried to climb the hierarchy by climbing into his bed. He’d shut that down right away, making it crystal clear that intimate skin privileges between packmates would in no way impact one’s position either positively or negatively.
Ever since then, he’d been sure to never pay too much attention to any one partner when his need for intimate skin privileges grew too much. He’d inherited too many of his father’s traits that had turned dark after his mother passed. He would be driven to take and possess a lover entirely, demanding complete sexual submission. Dominant changeling women weren’t exactly known for their surrendering natures, and any paramour he took would have to be dominant. Any other personality would be crushed by him simply being who he was. The fragile equilibrium of the new pack couldn’t handle such an imbalanced relationship.
A submissive couldn’t fight against a dominant, especially against sexual aggression from someone in a position of power; it was against their very nature. And he would slit his own throat before he shed the blood of any of his people, before he turned into the monster that stalked his darkest nightmares. He’d simply come to accept that being alone was the price he had to pay in exchange for the family he’d built.
“On top of that, we’ve had a perimeter breach in the eastern and northern sectors.” The second occurrence had been reported when Remi’d been arguing with Lorelei; he’d had to see her safely home before going to investigate. He’d bullied her into shifting to her other form by threatening to throw her over his shoulder and carrying her if she didn’t. The obstinate ocelot went into the change still wearing his shirt. His scent, already coating her in a superficial layer from wearing his tee, spread more evenly on her body when the fabric inevitably disintegrated. That had satisfied something primal, deep below the conscious level.
Coming of age in a brutal pack had irreparably changed him. He managed the violence that lived in him by directing it at those who would harm his people, but those same drives darkened to a sexual hunger when it came to her. He was rapidly becoming addicted to her. Unfortunately, his drug of choice was touch averse, specifically his touch. He hated the loss of control, feeling like a juvenile fresh from his first kill again. The pack needed him to keep his head on his shoulders, not lose it sniffing after a female.
“You’re getting harder,” Tien had said as he’d driven her home. It wasn’t a criticism: it was concern from one packmate to another. His touch hunger was already causing friction and there weren’t enough mated pairs at the higher end of the hierarchy to counteract the instability. And the only person he wanted to sate that need with was dividing his attention.
“She’s a liability.” If they thought he wasn’t doing right by the pack, especially if he was focused on an outsider to their detriment, he’d soon be facing challenges, and that would tear them apart when they were already facing outside dangers.
“Not everyone’s built for combat, that doesn’t mean they have nothing to contribute.” She misinterpreted his flat statement and defended the submissive, an arch statement reminding him that neither end of the power hierarchy was worth more or less than the other. That was what maternals did, protective in their own way.
He knew that better than most. Lorelei’s strength shone whenever she was in the same room with him; annoying as it was, he respected the hell out of her for standing up to him. What his father had forgotten, or perhaps never known, was that strength wasn’t always physical; a person’s value couldn’t be calculated in terms of how much blood they could shed. He would never understand how his father could have treated their most physically vulnerable as unworthy of respect. It ultimately led to his downfall.
“That’s not what I meant, Tien,” he’d growled, hands tightening on the manual controls until the wheel groaned in protest. “She poses a security risk. I never should have let her so deep into our territory.” They had changed the site of the autumn barbecue at the last minute to one more distant from where they made their homes at the heart of their land. But with several non-predatory changelings disappearing in the area recently, his instincts were driving him to keep his people protected deep within their territory and ban anyone who wasn’t fully allied with RainFire.
Changelings of any stripe needed freedom; too many restrictions, even if they were for protection, stifled them. The proper balance of safety and freedom gave cubs a firm foundation and the safety to develop their strength and personalities. It was an alpha’s honour to ensure cubs have what they need to flourish, not crush them by keeping them tightly confined without room to grow.
“She’s a baker, hardly a master spy. What’s she going to do? Steal Avery’s cheesecake recipes?” she’d scoffed. “What she is, is scared. I don’t think she knows how to stop protecting herself; it’s why she’s short-tempered.”
Remi had a different interpretation on that. He’d kept his reservations about her stability to himself, not even warning his sentinels. That was the true risk she posed: he was already keeping secrets from the soldiers who shed their blood in defense of RainFire because he wanted to protect an outsider when all his energies should be focused on safeguarding his people, not divided between them and a woman he couldn’t have.
When she went feral, and there was no doubt in his mind that she would if she didn’t learn to balance her two aspects, he would be the one to take her down. It would be his responsibility because he would have failed both her and his pack, which meant he could not permit that outcome to come to pass.
“Physical reconnaissance?” The question wrenched Remi from his musings.
“Seems like,” he said grimly. They still hadn’t been able to pinpoint who was behind the incursions and it was maddening. A stray breeze blew his hair back into his face and he shoved it back with one hand; he needed a haircut otherwise he’d soon need hair ties.
“I could have the squad monitor for any related activity, although the possibility of finding any evidence is minute.” A smile lit up Aden’s face as he watched his mate attempting to settle a squabble between a cub and a baby Arrow with cool logic.
“Don’t waste manpower, but I’d appreciate any intel passed our way.” The elite military unit protected the heart and conscience of the psy race: the empaths. Aden would never sacrifice their greater mission for RainFire’s sake; it was an unspoken understanding between the two men. Despite their differences, they both had an adamantine core of integrity, and both had been forged in crucibles of the cruellest kind. “I’ll send the info on the missing changelings.”
A wolf couple roaming in the area had disappeared sometime over the past week; he’d only known because they’d failed to check in during the window of time they said they would be leaving as arranged when they’d asked for permission to be in his territory. Two of the most powerful Tk’s he knew, one of them a true teleporter, had already tried to teleport to the two missing, using their faces as a lock and both had failed, which meant that they had either been disfigured or were dead.
Normally spending time with the cubs soothed even his worst moods, yet today it sat uneasily on him that he was on a playdate instead of searching for the wolves; his overdeveloped drive to protect was punishing him. Logically, he knew that the children needed to play with their friends before the semi-monthly gatherings would be disrupted by the holiday season. The pups and cubs were more flexible and would be fine until the new year; it was the psy who needed the foundation of routine, and even though they weren’t his in the strictest sense, it wasn’t in him to hurt a child, no matter how obliquely.
Aden Kai, a scary motherfucker who could create an impregnable shield that could deflect bullets back along their trajectories, smiled, hard eyes softening as Zaira climbed the rise towards them. A faint line between her brows was the only indication of her apparent puzzlement, and held up two identical cups.
“Tavish and Jasper are in disagreement over who gets the blue cup. These are both blue. I’m not familiar with Logan’s medical history, but no visual impairments were noted at Owen’s last physical.”
Remi’s shoulders shook with laughter as the two lethal Arrows looked to him for advice, perplexed. If only all of his problems were simply bickering cubs.
FROM: Zayaan Derici <email redacted>
TO: Lorel Maddox <email redacted>
October 15, 2083 2:30PM
Subject: RE: Fion and Mila Caine, RedRock
I cannot express my gratitude for your parents saving my life from our rogue member nor can I convey the depth of sorrow I’ve carried with me all these years, yet I know that it’s merely a drop compared to your loss.
Your parents were fine, courageous people. If you would like to know the details of what happened, I will gladly provide them, but I didn’t want to burden you with the knowledge before you were ready.
I’m ashamed that I didn’t look for you; I’d forgotten they had a little girl. Please forgive me, you would have been “a baby” in my 10-year-old mind. When I was older, I tried to find their relatives, but RedRock’s records were destroyed in a fire that night. I was astonished when your alpha reached out to me and elated when I received your email.
You may wish to move on and not re-visit this tragedy. I would not fault you for that, but I hope to hear from you again. I’ve attached a picture of my two cubs, Fiona and Mila; they are named after your parents.
Gratefully yours,
Devon Gutierrez
Two days passed without incident: no ultimatums, earth-shattering maxims, moments of bloodthirsty madness, and definitely no arguments with a certain autocratic leopard. One would think that would be restful, and yet, no matter how many times she gave herself a firm talking to, Lorel found herself restive.
The longing she felt for him was stronger than mere lust, which was something she’d more or less dealt with on her own since puberty. It was like her very skin ached for touch and without it, she felt untethered from the earth, like she didn’t exist without tactile contact to anchor her. His touch had fanned her ever-present hunger to a voracious need that kept her awake at nights no matter how many times she used her battery-operated boyfriend.
Lorel was grateful that Irena, who was across the workspace from her, didn’t appear to have the same sense of smell that cat changelings had, otherwise she’d never be able to look her in the eye again.
“Irena, could you please pass me the passionfruit?”
“Depends, will you get me that gorgeous cat’s number?” she asked, handing over the bowl with a mischievous grin.
“I don’t think he’s looking,” she shook her head with a rueful smile and began to cut the purple fruit.
“Damn. Wouldn’t mind getting eaten by a cat, if you know what I mean.” Looking up briefly from the sugar cookies she was cutting out, she waggled perfectly manicured eyebrows. This week’s designs were ghosts, pumpkins, and witches’ hats.
“Irena!” Her knife slipped and juice squirted down her apron.
The crow laughed gaily at Lorel’s shock, the sound filling the kitchen. It was still early and they were preparing for the day; they didn’t have to worry about scandalizing customers yet.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” she asked once she’d recovered from the embarrassment. “And if you so much as breathe a word of this to anyone, I will make sure you get all the early morning shifts during the holiday season.” She jabbed a warning finger at Irena; SweetCheeks would have to start baking at 3 am, two hours earlier than usual, to meet projected seasonal demand.
She shuddered and nodded acquiescence, waiting for Lorel to continue.
“Do alphas, or wing leaders,” she added, remembering the avian-specific term Irena used, “have certain… expectations of packmates?”
“Uh, depends on the person and the needs of the flight, or pack.” Her dark brows drew together when she looked up briefly from the dough.
“No, I mean single pack members.”
“What, you mean like one of them cults where the guy in charge sleeps with all the women? No, that is not normal. I won’t say it’s never happened, but people can be evil.” Hazel eyes aghast, she shook her head furiously. “I haven’t heard anything like that about RainFire, and we’re on good terms with them.”
Lorel had not only heard of instances of alphas becoming corrupt and taking advantage of those they were meant to care for, she’d also been forced to watch documentaries on them. Ostensibly, it was to protect her from becoming a victim of the depraved culture of changeling packs. While she didn’t think that authoritarianism was the default culture of packs, neither had she known exactly how abhorrent such occurrences were considered among changelings. She could smell Irena’s scent sour at the thought despite the competing aromas coming from the ovens.
Face warming, Lorel sketched in with broad strokes what had taken place in the woods the week before, never looking up from her work.
“Kissing between packmates is usually more like kissing a sibling. That sounds more like he’s looking for intimate skin privileges,” frowned Irena.
The kiss between them had been the farthest thing from that. It had been wild and sensual and like nothing she had ever experienced before. When she woke from fitful dreams in the bits of sleep she did manage to get, she swore that she could still taste him on her lips.
“And if there was a misunderstanding, like someone thought he was abusing his position as alpha?” The words he’d used were imprinted in her brain, they’d been so full of restrained fury. Once the hormones and adrenaline had faded, she’d nearly thrown up she’d been so disgusted with herself. Conflict of any kind usually left her feeling deeply discomfited, or at least it did whenever her ocelot wasn’t complicating matters with its temper. And it was always worst when she was in the wrong.
“You did not,” winced Irena. “In that case, I’d say it’s a damn good thing you’re not in the pack yet because his pride will not take that well.” Eyes wide, she shook her head and blew out a breath, golden-brown cheeks puffing up.
“He said I was ‘touch hungry.’ How was I supposed to know it wasn’t just a line? Like when doctors used to say, ‘I diagnose you woman, the cure is medically induced orgasms’!” she threw her hands in the air in frustration, sending green bits of pulp flying, even as she pinked at her own words. In fact, she was pretty sure that was the first time she’d ever uttered the word “orgasms” aloud; Chloe and Irena were definitely bad influences on her.
Giggling, Irena pressed the back of her forearm to her forehead. Since her hands were covered in flour and bits of dough, it was the equivalent of clapping a hand over her face.
“Flights- packs, whatever- are good for that, and no, I am not talking about group sex,” she said once she had breath again, sniffing back tears of mirth. “Mind you, some of those cats…” she trailed off with a slyly speculative expression. “Anyhoo, there’s different skin privileges between packmates, family, and lovers. Any might help alleviate touch hunger, but all the hugs in the world won’t cut it if you’re in dire need of a good dicking.”
“Do you enjoy making me blush?” Lorel mock glared.
“Yep,” she chirped unrepentantly. “One of these days I expect to see blood spurt out of your nose like in anime.” She waggled a hand near her face to mimic a spray of blood. Lorel flicked a passionfruit pit at the crow who giggled and batted the airborne seed towards the sink where it landed with a plink. “If he’s offering as a packmate, there’s no strings attached. It’s just fulfilling each other’s need. You set your own boundaries when it comes to skin privileges, all you have to do is say no and they’ll back off entirely. If he wants a relationship, that’s a whole nother kettle of wax, and I don’t know what big cats are like. Now if it was a corvid, I could give you a crash course.”
“How can I tell?”
“Ask him,” she said, hands spread wide, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Lorel stared at her like she was speaking another language.
“Communication? You know, the basis of all healthy relationships?”
Unsure how to respond to that, Lorel busied herself with straining the passionfruit pulp. She’d had few healthy relationships and even fewer romantic relationships, none of which had qualified as healthy.
“Lorel, are you a virgin?” Irena tilted her head in a way that was distinctly not human.
“No!” Her voice was so high it could have shattered glass. Then, in a calmer register, but not looking up, “Not technically. Besides, I don’t think he even wants to look at me; I’m half-surprised he hasn’t given up and banished me entirely.” Inexplicably, the thought made her chest ache till it felt like she couldn’t breathe. “I haven’t known him very long, but I feel like he’s mine.” This last she whispered to herself, confounded by the sudden realization. She hadn’t meant to say it, hadn’t even known she was thinking it until the words tumbled out.
Irena crossed the workspace to enfold Lorel with a hug, face set with lines of sympathy. Instincts told her to maintain her guard, to hold some part of herself back, but she was so tired that after a moment she released the tension she carried. Slowly wrapping her arms around the crow, she laid her head on the taller woman’s shoulder and breathed in the scent of friend, allowing herself to relax.
Lorel made acquaintances easily, but she’d never clicked as deeply as she had with the friends she’d made in the short time she’d been there. She’d always kept herself apart to protect the people around her from the violent madness she’d seen as an inevitability.
To hold that at bay, she lived by rigid rules to keep her other half, the one ruled by needs and emotions, under control. Being good and demure and all the things she was taught to be had gained her nothing, certainly not the approval of her grandparents; if anything, it put her more at risk of going rogue, if Remi was to be believed.
Now she knew differently because he was trying to show her a different way. He’d never demand that she silence herself or hide her wildness, on the contrary, he challenged her to embrace it. Such an attitude was a stark contrast to the people she’d called family for so long. He didn’t know that she would have to give up everything she’d ever known, including the people who raised her.
Summary: Lorel Maddox just wants to live as a human, run her bakery in peace, and forget. Unfortunately, the alpha of the local leopard pack has very different ideas.
Remi Denier doesn’t know what to make of the female Changeling who wants nothing to do with him or the RainFire pack. He does know that he has a driving need to protect her. Even if it’s from herself.
While they’re embroiled in a battle of wills, there’s a war brewing on the horizon. The outside threat could not only destroy everything they hold dear, but tear apart the fragile new bonds of the Trinity Accord, plunging the world into bloodshed to rival the Territorial Wars of centuries past.
Word count: 3318
Content warning: Contains racial assault on an interracial (human and changeling) gay couple. Singh doesn't mention homophobia iirc in the series, so I left that possible element out because I felt that I couldn't include both adequately.
I wrote Stian as submissive because I'd like to see more of them- and a dominant would've pounded the humans into paste- not because he's gay.
Hearth Fires Masterlist
Beta read by the transcendent pandabearer
“Lo’el!” A cheerful cry pulled her from daydreams of apples crisp, tart, and bright green baked into galettes and strudels. She turned from the pie display she was re-stocking in time to catch a tiny whirlwind in her arms.
“Hi, Jojo.” The girl’s deep brown skin was flushed with excitement. Her black hair was pulled back on either side of her head, French braids running along the top, and terminated in two high bobbly buns that looked somewhat like ears. Operating on deep-seated instincts, she hitched the girl on her hip. The warm weight of her little body tucked against her own felt right in a way she’d never experienced before and she allowed herself to take comfort in the sensation. “What’re you doing down here?” she asked.
The small downtown park was bustling with shoppers looking for fall produce, pumpkins, or in the case of the highly organized, holiday gifts. It seemed like the whole town came out to enjoy one of the last open-air markets of the season before moving to a smaller indoor version for the winter.
“Pun’kins!” She flung her arms in the air like gourds were the best thing ever and Lorel quickly put a hand on her back to help steady the girl, but she needn’t have worried. Jojo was a cat and had the requisite balance.
“Are you here to get pumpkins or were you hoping I’d giving you something that looks like a pumpkin?” As she talked, she turned to check on her newest employee, Irena, who was already competently handling the steady stream of customers. Her predecessor, a cousin of the blonde Madison, had quit after the Incident, as Lorel was calling it, in solidarity with her relative. Crows weren’t considered birds of prey and therefore exempt from the rules regarding predators sharing territory.
Jojo’s eyes slid to the sugar cookies cut in the distinctive shape and decorated accordingly. Long, angelic lashes batted beatifically up at her and she had to fight a smile even as her heart melted in the face of such cuteness.
“Careful, if you feed them they’ll never go away.” Angel, the unbelievably handsome man from RainFire, strolled up in Jojo’s wake. A boy not much older than Jojo orbited him, looking like a miniature version of the man in matching jeans and a red flannel shirt. He even had tiny coordinating work boots. The combination of gorgeous man and darling munchkin was too much for one poor bystander. Lorel winced in sympathy when the other woman walked into a pole.
Taking the teasing warning as permission, she gave cookies to all three of them, received unprompted thank yous, and she happily participated in the routine exchange, knowing that consistency was important for cubs. It took her a second to correct her mental wording to the more appropriate “kids.” Hanging out with changelings was giving her bad habits.
“No cookie for you?” An adorable frown from Jojo. Lorel’s poor heart couldn’t take it, she cast about for some excuse that wouldn’t plant the seeds of body image issues in a young psyche.
“I don’t want to spoil my lunch.” That appeared to mollify Jojo, finally taking a bite of the treat, and she jumped out of her arms. Lorel’s heart stopped for a moment. The organ stuttered back to life when the girl landed easily and lightly on her trademark purple boots. She and her friend wandered to investigate the blown glass suncatchers at the booth a few feet over; Angel turned to keep them in sight, his stance relaxed, but she had no doubt that he’d turn lethal in an eyeblink at the sign of any danger.
“Did you come down for the market?” asked Lorel when she could properly breathe again.
“The pack has a booth.” Angel nodded his head towards what she assumed was its general location. “Jojo had to come say hi to you, probably because she’s figured she can scam you out of cookies.” He shot her a smile that would have made any other woman swoon, but Lorel liked her men a little rougher, less pretty and more rugged.
“I’ll have to be careful in case she tells all her friends and they decide to gang up on me for the mother lode,” she laughed. The ocelot, which was sedate to the point of laziness for once, laughed at the idea of being swarmed by cubs nearly as big as it was, and they’d probably love it, too. “What do ya’ll sell?”
“Pumpkins, mushrooms, leafy green stuff, things people have made. You focus on local vendors?” She followed his gaze to the sign on the table that proclaimed as much. “If you’re looking for a supplier, we have berries, too: blue, black, elder, currants... I’m sure we could cut you a deal.”
Damn cats were worming their way into her life.
The boy wandered back and tugged on Angel’s pant leg, who crouched to hear what he had to say. A man across the way stared at what must have been an exquisite derriere because he spilled the sample of apple cider he was pouring for a potential customer.
“Can we go play in the water?” The boy twisted his body back and forth the way that kids do when they need to lay the cute on thick to get what they want.
“I suppose it’s the quickest way to clean you cookie monsters up. Or I could just toss you in the river.” Using his thumb, he wiped an orange crumb off the boy’s chin, who giggled at the teasing
“Can Lo’el come, too?” asked Jojo.
“Oh honey, I have to stay here and help Irena,” she began, gesturing at the crow who was refilling a sample plate
Twin pairs of innocent eyes stared up at her in appeal. Seriously, they should be considered deadly weapons and she was looking down a double barrel. Looking to Angel for help did no good, he just tucked his hands under his armpits and shook his head with a grin. It looked like she was on her own.
“And who are these cuties?” Having come over at the sound of her name, Irena eyed the trio of cats, stopping on Angel and then coming back for seconds. Apparently, she preferred her men pretty.
“Irena, meet troublemakers one, two, and three. Known aliases are Jojo, Angel, and peeshwank,” Lorel pointed at each of them in turn. She didn’t know the boy’s name, but she’d overheard Remi call him that the other night. Sometimes having acute hearing was actually useful.
“I’m Darin! Only Remi calls me peeshwank,” he giggled and revealed a missing front tooth.
“They’re trying to get me to play hooky.” Hands on her hips, she mock scowled. None of them appeared the least bit fazed. If anything, the kids turned the charm factor up a notch, something she wouldn’t have thought possible.
“Go play with the cublets, I’ll be fine here. Like you said, the breakfast crowd’s already come through so I won’t have to beat off the ravening hordes,” the traitor smiled reassuringly and made shooing motions with both hands, then leaned in close to whisper, “As long as you get me his phone number.” The slender brunette pulled away with a wink.
Lorel sighed in feigned resignation and held out her hands like she was about to be handcuffed. Two soft, little hands took each of hers and dragged her into the throng of shoppers, Angel close on her heels.
“Don’t worry, I won’t give her anything without your say so,” she said to him over her shoulder. Bumping into someone, she had to return her attention to where she was going.
“Thank you,” came the quiet response.
Where the kids’ smaller size allowed them to dodge easily, she was pulled into obstacles, but she didn’t let go for fear of losing them. The thought that they might get lost or hurt had her tightening her grip and bracing herself against the jostling.
While she was just over five feet tall, she was far from slender and never would be, to her grandmother’s chagrin. She was acutely conscious of her ample hips knocking into people and she did her best to make herself as small as possible. Each bump, no matter how brief, had her ocelot snarling in irritation and it took all of her concentration to remain in control. The crowd pressed in around her until all she could see was Darin and Jojo in front of her. Her palms grew clammy, but the kids didn’t seem to mind. A dull roar filled her ears, allowing only the loudest sounds through, and those were sharp and intense. Throat tightening, she fought for each breath.
The ocelot pressed hard against its cage, sandwiching her between it and the pressure of the crowd. How she managed to arrive at the splash pad, even though it was only fifty meters away, without going clawed, she had no idea. More than anything, she was glad that her tiny guides didn’t have so much as a scratch on them. Angel probably would have torn her to pieces for harming them. And she’d let him.
The kids stripped down to swimsuits underneath their clothing. Darin was so eager he forgot to unbutton his flannel shirt and ended up stuck with it around his nose.
“Help!” he pleaded, turning to Lorel, his arms above his head and his face obscured by red-plaid.
Moving automatically despite the strange sensation of not feeling fully present in her body, she crouched and carefully helped free the boy. Once released, he beamed and wrapped his soft arms around her neck. She froze with one hand tentatively curving around his back. A wet kiss against her cheek and he was off to run through the water spraying from colourful flowers sculpted from metal. Some of his packmates were already there and greeted him with shrieks of welcome, their happiness no longer piercing to her senses.
A large, warm hand settled on her shoulder. It felt strange and soothing all at once and she couldn’t bring herself to shrug it off. Angel helped her to her feet and opened his arms wide in an offer of a hug.
The leopards were so relaxed and comfortable with one another, sharing platonic hugs and kisses, casually holding hands. It hurt to look at them like they were a blazing fire and she was stuck out in the cold darkness, looking in. And now one was extending that comfort to her.
Although she wasn’t raised to accept casual physical contact, even platonically, from men, she stepped into his arms. It was like a long, cool drink of water after working for hours in the hot sun without a break. The sudden absence of a deep-seated pain she’d learned to deal with long ago made her nearly sag in relief.
This had nothing to do sex. She didn’t feel any attraction either to or from him, yet she needed the chaste affection and she soaked it up as long as he would allow her.
“We aren’t meant to be alone. Sure, some of us are more solitary than others, but we’re not meant to be cut off from our kind entirely. I can’t think of a worse life for a changeling.” He rubbed large circles on her back and she fought back a purr.
“Maybe it’s a nature vs. nurture thing. If you’re raised in a pack, of course you wouldn’t do well on your own.” Even she didn’t believe her own words.
“And how do you know you won’t be better off in a pack?”
A knot of packmates moved out of Remi’s way as he burst into the emergency room. The triage nurse took one look, recognized him, and hit the button that unlocked the security door that led into the depths of the department. The door shut behind him with a metallic click as he strode down the sterile, off-white hallway to where Theo stood guard outside of a cubicle.
A lean blonde man lay on a narrow bed, his normally bronzed skin was ashen and spattered with carmine. Catching sight of Remi in the doorway, he gave a crooked smile around a split in his lip and raised his hand in greeting.
“What the fuck happened?” Remi growled at the sentinel. The bad-tempered demand earned him a sharp look of reproach from Finn as he worked on the injured male in the treatment room; the wounded non-dominant didn’t need any more stress, least of all from his fucking alpha.
It seemed like his vocal chords were stuck in a semi-shift for the past two weeks and everything came out a snarl. That was part of the reason why he’d been running along the eastern border, channelling excess energy and inspecting the new security precautions, instead of sleeping.
Taking a deep, calming breath, he forced his voice into a more normal register. “What happened?” There, that sounded a little less like he was about to go on a murderous rampage.
“Stian and Leandro were leaving Acapella when they got jumped.” The lounge was popular with most segments of the population, even the psy who were exploring life outside of the emotionless discipline of Silence. While the telepathic race couldn’t drink since alcohol wreaked havoc on their abilities, Acapella was known for their extensive mocktail menu. The trendy venue was hardly known for drunken brawls. As far as Remi knew, the most violent incident that had occurred there was a spat two years before between a couple of drag queens over stealing someone’s routine.
“There were four or five human guys.” All RainFire members were trained in at least basic hand-to-hand combat. Five human men shouldn’t have been able to take a leopard, even a non-dominant. And Leandro, while human and untrained, was bigger than Stian.
“First one jumped out of the alley and hit him in the face with a baseball bat, breaking his nose. The wind was blowing the wrong way for him to catch a scent.” Claws pricked at Remi’s fingertips, the urge to hunt boiling to the surface.
“This was planned.” That time he didn’t bother to keep the cat out of his voice. “A group of drunks looking for a fight don’t use tactics designed to circumvent our sense of smell.”
“And they weren’t playing baseball at one in the morning, either,” agreed Theo. The man who was gentle with their most vulnerable and loved to play with the cubs was gone; only the lethal predator remained. A passing nurse started to admire him until they caught the dangerous aura he emanated, then quickly scuttled past even though his eyes hadn’t even flashed cat. The hindbrain of every creature knew how to recognize a predator no matter what skin they wore. “They took him down while he was stunned. One kicked him, possibly with steel-toes, while the other used the bat, and the rest went after Leandro.”
“Leandro, he ok?” The human male wasn’t one of his, but he was important to Stian. Finn did something that eased the grimace on Stian’s wan face and Remi’s urge to kill something eased down a tick.
“A little beat up, but he’s ok.” Theo blew out a breath and scrubbed an eyebrow with a thumbnail, then his quiet bass dropped to barely a whisper too quiet for Stian to hear. “You know his family wasn’t thrilled he was dating a changeling? This was too much on top of that, apparently.”
Remi turned the air blue. “Any witnesses?”
“No descriptions, either,” Theo shook his head. “Dark, non-descriptive clothing and hoodies obscured their faces on CCTV footage.”
More cursing.
“Thanks.” He clapped the sentinel on the shoulder. “We’ll talk later, this shit ain’t your fault. Go, be with the others before they storm the place for an update.”
“It’s not your fault either.” He fixed Remi with a firm look and then strode down the hallway, pressed the button that released the door for those exiting, and went to give an update to the waiting packmates.
Maybe not, but he could’ve at least fucking been there when Enforcement was getting his statement instead of brooding in the woods in the middle of the night like a fucking wolf. Next thing he knew, he’d be howling at the goddamn moon.
Cell reception could be spotty in the mountains, texts were the best method of communication once he was within range. Theo’s message had come in when he was on his way back, which meant Remi made it to the hospital soon after Stian’s statement had been taken. The distance, the adrenaline, and the fact that there wasn’t a bloodbond between the two of them combined meant Remi hadn’t felt the assault. Although he definitely felt it when Finn pulled energy from him to heal the worst of Stian’s wounds.
An alpha was supposed to be there for everyone in his pack.
Comforting others didn’t come easily to him; it was difficult to give something he didn’t have much experience receiving. With the cubs it was easy since they were easy to love and care for, the same way he’d been loved and petted when his mother was still alive. Steeling himself, Remi rapped on the door frame of the cubicle as he entered.
“How ya feeling?” he placed a hand on Stian’s shoulder, grounding him with the touch of pack, of his alpha, while Finn continued stitching up a cut on the other man’s side.
“Like hell.” A faint smile that didn’t disturb the deep purpling bruises that mottled his face.
“You look like it.” Yeah, it was definite: when it came to compassion, he definitely was the worst. “But you’ll be back to your pretty surfer boy looks in no time.”
Snorting, Stian scratched at his close-trimmed beard where a patch of dried blood stained the blonde hair rust red. Pale, almost colourless, eyes dropped to the blanket tucked around him.
“I’m sorry about Leandro.”
“Yeah, well, other fish in the sea,” he shrugged, then winced when his body protested the movement. “I can’t really blame him, the garbage they were spewing…” He shook his head. “Those assholes called him an ‘animal fucker’ and ‘race traitor’ like it’s 1982 and not 2082! But I can blame him for breaking up with me in a text message.”
Remi placed his other hand over the male’s, which was fisted in the blanket; small nicks, scrapes, and more bruises from defending himself marked his lightly tanned skin.
“I can’t even tell you what they looked or smelled like. I’m s-sorry.” Big fat tears that he’d been holding back spilled over to roll down his face and soak into his beard. The salt in his split lip had to hurt like a sonuvabitch, yet he didn’t wince. “T-they were wearing d-dark hoodies.”
“Hey, look at me.” Keeping his tone gentle, Remi moved his hand from Stian’s shoulder to the side of his neck. Those icy blue eyes filled with anguish turned to him. “They used tactics to avoid identification, they were prepared. You survived, that’s all you had to do.”
“I c-couldn’t protect him.”
“That bastard didn’t deserve it anyway.” A laugh that was part sob. “At least, tell me they messed up his face, too. Lark’s coming to keep you company. I told Angel to stay home, having him around right now would be adding insult to injury.” More shaky laughter in nervous relief.
“Whatever you need, you ask for it, ya hear me?” Remi clasped Stian in a careful hug and wondered how he was going to hunt down the fuckers who’d done this. He fucking hated feeling helpless, especially when one of his people were hurt, but he could do nothing less because otherwise that meant he couldn’t protect his own.
And an alpha who couldn’t protect was no alpha at all.
