Coming ine box set, p.52
Coming in Hot: Rescue Me Box Set, page 52
He was already so far in the middle of things he didn’t know where he ended and Isobel began. Izzy was his mate. Pure and simple. His cat knew it and so did he. The rest of the fucking world needed to leave them the hell alone. She had three years left and she’d be out of high school. Then they could make plans. But, until then, he would bide his time the best way he knew how and make whatever money he could.
His asshole of a boss at Buck’s Pizzeria held him over for some imagined infraction, but he knew better. A relative of Isobel’s, the prick was probably keeping him there in the hopes it would dissuade them from getting together. It was a crap job, but he needed something on top of the construction work until he could get the money together to hit the community college two towns over. Anything to get out of Bradford, Texas. At least, that was the plan. In three years he could do it. The only difference was Izzy was coming with him.
He still remembered the first time he saw her.
It was right before the last dance of his senior year. His best friend, Grant, begged him to come. Said he would fix him up on a blind date so he could go out with a scorching hot female wolf shifter he’d been eying.
“Come on, man. I owe you one. Desiree won’t go to the dance by herself.” Grant pleaded. His gaze was glued to the hot brunette standing by her locker. She tossed a textbook in and stood there waiting, her nose buried in a paperback copy of To Kill a Mockingbird.
Pining after her for months, Grant had been dodging his parents who had been trying to foist a pack female on him. Like Roark, he hadn’t been interested. Until now. And the hot brunette, aka Desiree, was apparently the daughter of the neighboring werewolf Alpha.
His idiot best friend always did have a death wish.
The hallway was packed with kids trying to get to class and if Roark had any sense, he’d get moving before he ended up with another infraction for being late. Mr. Schultz didn’t need a reason to give him a hard time.
He checked his watch and slung his backpack onto his shoulder. Five minutes. Roark shoved his hair away from his face and started looking for the nearest way out. Taking time off work for a dance he didn’t give a rat’s ass about wasn’t going to happen.
Roark grinned at the drool practically pooling at the corner of Grant’s mouth. “I didn’t know you went for anyone with brains.”
A low growl slid from his friend’s lips. “Shut up. Are you going to do it or not?”
He’d been about to refuse when he caught sight of a long legged, shapely redhead weaving her way down the busy hallway.
It was that girl. The one he’d heard rumors about. She’d been accused of setting one of the science labs on fire last year. Supposedly she’d gotten sent away to some rehabilitation center for fire bugs but as far as rumors went, it was pretty lame. His interest was immediately piqued.
What was it they called her behind her back?
Oh yeah. Firestarter.
Watching her approach, he bet she hated it.
“Desiree!” She called out, hurrying toward the locker, a panicked expression on her face. “There was a quiz in history. God. I think I just failed it. My parents are going to kill me.”
The brunette spun toward the redhead, a look of horror on her face. “No way!”
“He didn’t even announce it.”
“That jerk!” Desiree responded, grabbing a textbook from her locker and banging the door shut. “That’s my next class.”
“I know. Just don’t be late. He’s in a foul mood today.”
“Figures.” Desiree rolled her eyes and the two started down the hall, walking toward Roark and Grant.
His cat purred, pacing back and forth beneath his skin. Clad in jeans and a long sleeved tee, she was like pouring fire on gasoline inside of his veins and Roark froze in his tracks.
“Shut up,” he muttered to the beast. Jesus, she was gorgeous. Even if she was an arsonist witch.
Arms loaded down with what looked like notebooks and a few textbooks, she struggled to fix the glasses sliding down her nose and stumbled, her books flying from her arms.
The girl squeaked and Roark didn’t wait for a response. He shot forward, his arms out to catch her as she lurched forward.
“Isobel!” Desiree called out, her hand flying up to cover her mouth.
“I’m okay…Oh!” She landed in an audible thud against Roark, fitting perfectly against his chest. Her green eyes stared up at him from beneath sooty lashes and the wide frames of her glasses.
Her scent of warm apples and cinnamon enveloped him and he was lost.
His cat wanted to lick her to see if she tasted as good as she smelled. Jeans uncomfortably tight, he cleared his throat and let a few inches slide between them.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” She pushed her glasses up her nose, a flush creeping over her cheeks.
“Grant!” The girl who was standing next to the redhead squealed and launched herself into his arms. “Is this him? Does this mean we can go?”
“I…ugh.” Grant kissed her and lowered her to the floor. He scuffed his sneaker on the floor, not meeting her eyes. “Desiree. We really haven’t had much chance to talk about it.”
“But I thought…”
Enough of this shit.
“Yes.” Roark interrupted.
“Yes, what?” The redhead swiveled her head to Desiree and finally back to him. No. Isobel. Her name was Isobel.
“He’s taking you to the dance!” Desiree crowed, looping her arm through Isobel’s and giving her a hug even though she was still in Roark’s arms. “If he takes you, then Grant can come with me. It’s all settled.”
A storm brewed behind Isobel’s green eyes and he waited to see what she would say.
He should let her go. But, he didn’t want to.
“Wait a minute. We haven’t even spoken two words to each other. Besides, he hasn’t even asked me.” Isobel’s gaze met his, the challenge bright in her eyes. The warm and fuzzy moment was over and she stepped from his arms, leaving him absurdly off kilter.
Where had that even come from?
Roark opened his mouth to respond but the girl had other ideas.
Isobel rounded on Desiree. “I told you, I don’t need you fixing me up. If I want a date for the dance, I’ll find one of my own.”
Wait. What?
“Isobel, you know Daddy won’t let me go if you don’t go.”
“I’m not your babysitter.”
Desiree cocked her hip mean girl style, a warning cloud settling over her features. “Well, apparently you are. So, please?”
Her devastating green gaze turned in his direction.
“Well?” Isobel crossed her arms in front of her chest and raised her chin.
Roark picked up his backpack, an idea sparking in his brain. “What?”
“Are you going to ask me?”
“Maybe.” He bent down and scooped up her books, giving her a wink.
“Hey, you just said yes.” Desiree pouted.
“That was before I got a no from our little arsonist over here.” There. Take that, Firestarter.
Grant let out a groan. “Dude, come on.”
Isobel considered him, her cheeks filling with color. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”
“You had your chance.”
“You…” she sputtered, her jaw falling open in irritated shock.
Oh no. He wasn’t about to make it easy.
“A girl has to make her own decisions. You want a date…you can ask me.” He sauntered down the hallway, feeling three sets of eyes drilling into his back and couldn’t resist smiling.
She would come and find him. He’d made sure of that. Digging her copy of Hamilton’s Mythology out from beneath his arm, he whistled as he made his way to class. Things were going to work out. He just had to wait.
And they had. Months later, Grant was onto his next conquest but Roark and Isobel had only just gotten started. If everyone would just get out of the damned way.
He eased the truck to a stop in front of the small cabin, the tires crunching on the gravel drive. He got out, the echo of the slamming door shattering the silent night. The woods beyond beckoned him and his cat prowled beneath his skin, anxious.
Something wasn’t right.
Isobel?” Roark called out, his voice echoing. A blur of movement caught his eye and he turned.
She was a shot out of the darkness, a blur of red hair and blue jeans. In a flurry of arms and legs, she launched herself against him.
Roark grunted as he caught her, running his hands over her to make sure she was all right.
“You came.”
Her face was hot and wet. He held her close, her sweet scent wrapping around him like smoke. Then she sniffled.
Shit.
She had been crying.
He’d fucking kill whoever it was.
“What’s wrong?” Roark drew back and narrowed his eyes. Her face was mottled and red, the glistening trail of tears on her cheeks.
Her voice thick, she wiped at the tears angrily. “I hate them.”
“Tell me.” Roark wrapped his arms around her, tucking her head underneath his chin. That was when he felt the books in her hand. She always picked up one of her books when she was upset.
Tonight she had two. Bulfinch’s Mythology and Grimm’s Fairy Tales.
Isobel sucked in a shuddering breath and buried her face against his chest. A gust of wind rustled through the trees and he lifted his nose but found no other presence save for animals in the brush.
“Izzy.” He put a finger under her chin, forcing her to look at him.
“I’m being sent away.”
The first thing that crept into his mind was the fire. Had she done something? Hurt someone? An icy dread snaked through Roark’s stomach and his animal twitched under his skin, but for her sake, he forced himself to remain calm.
“Go on.”
Isobel pulled away and rubbed her hands over her the sleeves of her sweater. “It’s no secret my parents don’t like that we’re dating.”
That was the understatement of the year if he’d ever heard one.
“No.” Roark snorted. He found himself thinking of the colorful phoenix tattoo that now held court on her upper arm. The one, coincidentally, that matched his own. She’d told him she liked the symbolism. A new start. Like the one they’d talked about when they got out of this shit hole of a town.
It was also her answer to his moment of weakness when his teeth had pierced her flesh during one of their secret assignations in the old cabin just up the road. He hadn’t meant to mark her, not yet, but he'd lost control of his beast, accidentally laying claim to his mate much sooner than he had intended. The tattoo had been the perfect camouflage, the bird’s colorful plumage working in the bite marks so if you didn’t know they were there, it was impossible to make out.
Only his nose told him the truth. Her scent had changed, albeit subtly, as his mate. His pack members would be able to tell, so they kept everything as close to the vest as possible.
She glanced toward the darkness of the woods beyond, her expression stony. “Mom told me they knew we had been meeting. That she and Dad hadn’t raised me to date outside the coven.”
“That’s bullshit.”
Isobel gave him a look. “They saw the tattoo. My mother was pissed.”
“Ouch. At least they couldn’t tell about the bite.”
Unconsciously, her hand trailed up to her upper arm, rubbing the tat through her clothes. “I tried to tell her this isn’t a passing thing. That you’re the one.”
He could just see Dayanara Fieri’s pinched expression after that delightful conversation.
“I bet she didn’t like that.”
“No. As a matter of fact she didn’t. Neither did my father.”
The knot that had taken residence in his gut twisted. He didn’t really care if they liked him, but if they made it hard on Izzy, that he did care about.
“Izzy…” He reached out to tug her back into his arms but she held out her hand.
“There’s more.”
“Do I want to know?” Roark ran a hand through his hair, afraid of what she was going to say next. Losing her was not an option. Not for him.
“Apparently there’s been an arranged marriage with someone in Jonastown involved in coven affairs. And as soon as I graduate, I’m to take my place and follow through with their agreement.”
Agreement?
What agreement?
God. She was still in high school.
“Izzy. You know that sounds insane, right? You should be able to choose who you want to be with.”
She barked out a laugh, fire dancing in her eyes. It was a bitter sound that cut him to the quick. “You don’t know the coven.” As she spoke, she cocked her head. “You were late tonight. Why?”
“That asshole uncle of yours held me after. Accused me of an incorrect inventory.”
Isobel shook her head, her fiery strands of hair cascading around her shoulders. “It was to delay you.”
Shit. He already knew that. The question was, why?
“When did you get here?”
“A few minutes before you. I had to sneak out of the house. The parentals were arguing. They didn’t even check the wards.”
“That doesn’t sound right.”
She nodded. “I know.”
“Where’s your car?”
“I walked the trail. I didn’t want to take a chance they’d spelled it.” She moved away from him, lifting her face to the moon.
“Izzy…” He growled. She knew it wasn’t safe. Not for a female alone. Firestarter witch or not.
“We have to leave.”
“What?”
She lifted her face toward his, the ghostly light of the moon on her pale cheeks making her eyes appear luminous. She curled her fingers in his shirt and dragged his mouth down to hers. The sweet cinnamon taste of her lips brought their time together last Friday night to the forefront of his mind.
“Firestarter,” he sighed into her hair. What once had been a terrible nickname had become his term of endearment for her.
Roark’s jeans grew uncomfortably tight and as she molded her body against his, he let out a groan. But then he heard it, a car moving up the gravel road. He broke the kiss, struggling to shake the fog of wanting her that had taken over his body.
He had to remain in control. For both their sakes.
“Izzy, someone’s coming.”
“I hear them.” Her voice was cold. “Sounds like Rory’s old sedan. I knew it wouldn’t be long before they followed me up here.”
“Do you think they put a tracker on you?”
She shrugged. “It could be anywhere. My clothes. A spell someone brushed on me when I was at the meeting after work.”
He would go crazy in a prison like that. Roark ground his teeth in indignation. They had to be stopped.
“What do you want to do?”
“I want a say in my future. Let’s go.”
“Where?”
“What about Wayfarer?” Her eyes were fathomless pools and when he peered into their depths, he remembered the unsettling encounter at Forbidden Ink. He’d looked up the best shops in a hundred mile radius and it was ranked as one of the top three. But what they both got when they arrived was akin to a fortune telling session with needles.
He would never forget the owner’s words when they walked into the shop and he asked to see the selection of tattoos.
“The Goddess picks your ink, boy.” The sultry, dark eyed vampire considered them both and then pointed at him. “You. Sit. I’ll be with you in a bit.”
And she had. Hours later, after Izzy was done, he’d made an appointment to come the next night only to receive a masculine version of the same tattoo.
The woman…Fae, he half remembered, contemplated him after she’d finished his ink. “Don’t be afraid to walk into the flames. There’s a reason why the phoenix chose you both, shifter. Just be worthy of her when the time comes.”
What the hell she meant, he had no idea, but if it pertained to Izzy he’d do whatever it took.
But now she wanted to leave to go back there? It was true the town boasted a higher than average shifter population and was home to Cirque Nocturne, but he had never considered that being the destination for their future together.
“Wayfarer?”
Izzy cut her eyes toward the road. “There. Or anywhere. We just have to go. Now. If the Bradford Coven puts its clamps on me I don’t know what will happen.”
What she was asking him to do was nothing he hadn’t thought of before. Hell, he’d spent nights fantasizing about where they would go. Where they would live. But all of it hinged on her being older. Out of high school. Then he could officially claim her as his mate and no one could give them shit about it. She’d told him more than once that she’d love to work in a museum. There was a big one in Maberry. Maybe they could head there.
It was too soon.
But dammit he didn’t know what else to do.
She marched to the passenger side of his truck and opened the door. Sliding onto the seat, she closed it behind her with a jarring slam.
He darted to the driver’s side, his cat digging at him to hurry. Move faster. If the coven got their way, he’d never see her again. There was no telling where they were going to send her. But one thing was for certain. They would under no circumstances let him get anywhere near her again.
It was now or never.
He pulled his phone from his back pocket and shot a quick text off to Dustin.
Coven in pursuit. Old Quarry road heading for highway. Isobel wants out.
The pack would offer her protection. They had to. But first he had to get her out of here. It was worth the risk to have them discover he’d mated with her. There was no other choice to make.
On my way.
Dustin would support him. Even if he kicked his ass six ways to Sunday afterward. Roark shoved the phone back in his pocket and slid behind the wheel.
“Who were you texting?”
Roark patted her thigh. “Dustin. In case things go south, I want the pack involved. You have to be safe.”
“Are you sure? I know what that will cost you.” She reached out and grabbed his hand, a suspicious glimmer of moisture in her eyes. “Thank you.”
