BRANDED BY FIRE

“She’ll be a dead bitch soon enough.”


Mercy was meant to be doing a shift on the continuing security patrols in the city, but after she and Riley went their separate ways, she asked Clay to cover for her so she could drive to Tammy’s. She’d deliberately picked the one sentinel who wouldn’t ask questions, but to her surprise, he gave her a narrow-eyed glance and stroked the back of one hand over her cheek. “You okay?”

Surprised by the affection from a leopard who’d been all but stone a few months ago, she felt every one of her emotions threaten to come to the surface. Damming the storm back with effort, she touched his hand in thanks. “I will be.”

He let her go without further comment, but she knew he’d be keeping an eye on her. It made her cat settle—today, she needed the comfort of Pack, of knowing she was part of a cohesive and vital unit. How could she possibly exist without the blood bond that tied her to DarkRiver so fundamentally?

When she arrived at Tammy’s, the healer took one look at her and dragged her into the kitchen. “What’s the matter?”

“The Bakers?”

“Gone exploring in the woods. They’ve got an escort. My babies are at playgroup. Now talk.”

She just blurted it out. “If I mate with Riley, will we be able to have kids?” It was another part of the dream, something she’d always imagined. If she couldn’t … it would hurt, no doubt about it.

“Of course you will,” Tammy said at once. “I’ve been researching that ever since you two showed an interest in each other. Inter-changeling unions between predatory species aren’t that common, so the info is scattered and incomplete.”

Relieved, Mercy rocked back on her heels. “It’s because the animal prefers its own kind.”

“Yeah.” Tammy leaned over and took Mercy’s hand, eyes shining. “But sometimes, the human heart loves so deeply that it overcomes the objections of the animal.”

Mercy felt a knot form in her throat.

“I’m so glad you have that,” Tammy continued. “Of all the sentinels, it’s you I worried most about.”

Startled, she stared. “Me? Why?” When Clay had almost gone rogue and Dorian had come close to self-destructing? “I’m probably more stable than anyone but Lucas.”

“Exactly,” the healer said. “People tend to ignore the ones who seem okay. And we shouldn’t. You’re an integral part of the pack, and I worried that we’d left you too much on your own.”

Mercy rolled her eyes. “You worry way too much. Shall I tell you how alone I’ve been lately?” She didn’t wait for an answer, pulling out a chair and turning it around to sit with her arms on the back while Tammy perched on a stool at the counter. “Ever since word got out about me and Riley, I’ve had an uncountable number of teenage girls sidle up to me and ask if wolves are good lovers.”

Tammy choked. “No!”

“Oh, yes. Their eyes, they are wandering.”

“Oh, dear God.” Tammy looked torn between horror and laughter. “If the teenagers start dating, Hawke and Lucas will both have aneurysms.”

“Oh, you haven’t heard the best part.” She paused. “An entire pack of male juveniles cornered me the other day to ask if I didn’t think leopards were good enough for me.”

Tammy rubbed her forehead. “I think I have a headache.”

“You don’t get to have a headache. Only I get to have a headache.” She tried to keep a straight face. “When I pointed out that I could gut them all with a butter knife but that I might have difficulty doing the same to Riley, they turned green. You might have to pet a few later on—I think I scared them off sex with leopard females.”

Tammy was looking a bit green herself. “Do I want to know more?”

“Probably not.” She ran a hand over her face. “Enough stalling, Tammy. Will my babies shift?”

“Yes, absolutely.” Hopping off the stool, she went around the counter to pour some coffee. “I didn’t realize you were concerned about that.”

“I heard that when two different changelings mate, the animals cancel each other out and the child can’t shift.”

“Old wives’ tale.” Tammy made a face as she brought the cups to the table. “Makes no sense ge ne tically. Genes don’t cancel each other out.”

“But some are recessive and others aren’t,” Mercy said. “How’s that work with changelings?”

“We screw up those neat genome charts the biologists like to keep,” Tamsyn said.

“So we don’t know what’ll happen?”