The Covert Wolf

“Now.”

Sienna invoked the image of a fire extinguisher. “Take this, hot stuff,” she yelled, pointing the apparition at him.

Screaming, the demon drew back, its hands dropping. As it looked behind for a way out, Matt tackled it in a full body slam. He jammed an arm at the demon’s throat and stuffed the blanket into its flat nostrils and oval mouth, cutting off its oxygen supply. The demon’s body heat burned through the arm of his leather jacket, cooking his skin. The metal of his sidearm began to warm like a skillet over an open flame. An eerie scream choked out of the pyro demon. The heat intensified, but Matt continued to smother the cloth, now singeing beneath the flames creeping out of its mouth.

The pyro demon tried to draw in a breath, found only woven cloth. It gasped and its reddish-yellow eyes fluttered.

Unconscious for now.

He gave a hard twist, breaking the creature’s neck. Permanently cutting off all oxygen.

Smoke clogged his lungs, heat painfully burning through his leather jacket. Wincing at the pain of his burned hands, Matt crawled the length of the smoky hallway to the back bedroom. He tried to draw air into his lungs, and coughed. Then someone yanked him into the room.

He kicked the door shut with a booted foot, buying them time. Sienna was already yanking off the bedspread, stuffing it beneath the door to block the smoke.

A distant screech of sirens sounded. By the time the fire department arrived, it would be too late. And how the hell would they explain anything?

Two stories down, but they could make it. Smoke curled into the room from the door frame. Coughing, Sienna clamped a hand over her mouth.

Matt ran to the window. Ignoring the pain in his burned hands, he jerked it upward. The wood frame splintered beneath the force.

“I’ve heard Fae can fly. Now’s a good time to find out. Me first. I’ll cushion you, but if I don’t, hit the ground in a roll, Sienna.”

He jumped, aiming for a thick bayberry shrub. Branches scraped his face, but the bush protected his bones from breaking. He rolled out, held out his arms.

“Jump.”

Sienna fell, rather than jumped. He caught her, wincing as her weight made contact with his burns. Matt set her down, whistling through his teeth, the agony in his arm graying his vision. Swaying, his eyes watering and lungs burning with smoke, he fought to remain on his feet. Sienna’s soot-covered face looked anxiously at him.

“Better get that NASCAR illusion ready, sweetheart. Because this time, I think I will let you drive.”

Chapter 4

The white house with the bright red shutters was quaint and small and in a quiet neighborhood near downtown Forrest Plains. Perfect place to hide and recover.

Heart pounding like a war drum, Sienna found the key beneath a statue of a grinning gnome. As she replaced the gnome, it politely lifted its hat. She blinked.

“The owner has an odd sense of humor,” Matt rasped.

He was shaking badly now. Sienna slid an arm around his waist, helping him inside. She locked the door behind them.

The living room had a large, faded olive sofa, and two green recliners. A basket of dried wildflowers sat in the hearth of a stone fireplace. Silver-framed photos adorned the cream walls. It looked like an average, middle-class house.

The only difference was a painting hanging over the fireplace. A large, gray wolf, head held aloft and proud, standing in a forest.

Her stomach pitched and rolled. Great. Portrait of ole grandpa. A wolf.

“It smells like a den in here,” she muttered.

“Belongs to a buddy. Draicon. He took his family to visit relatives. Told me I could use it any occasion I wanted. The occasion calls for it.”

Instinct warred within her, her Fae side shrieking in fear at the wolf scent, her Draicon side welcoming the cozy and welcoming house. She told her Fae side to shut up and deal. They needed a place to lie low. And he was badly hurt. Worry raced through her.

Matt limped over to the sofa, coughing violently. Sienna ran into the kitchen, pulled open an oak cabinet. She filled a glass with water and brought it to him. He gulped it down, then wheezed.

“Thanks. It’s not a beer, but it’ll do.” He winked at her.

“You need a hospital, Lieutenant Parker.”

“Unless you can conjure up the illusion of a medic, no chance in hell. Too dangerous. I’ll heal. Give me a few minutes. I’m a fast healer.” He leaned back and closed his eyes. Long, dark lashes feathered his sooty cheeks.

The anger she’d harbored against all Draicon melted a little. He was wolf, but courageous and steady. Not like the Draicon who’d abused her mother.

Sienna sat beside him. “Let’s get the jacket off. Then I’ll see about conjuring up a steak. You’re low on energy, and from what I know about your kind, protein will suffice.”

He opened one eye. “That or sex.” Matt gave a rueful glance downward. “Though I doubt that part of me will cooperate right now.”

Heat flooded her cheeks. She helped him sit up, and gently tugged the jacket off his uninjured arm. Sienna sucked in a breath. “I can cut it off you.”

“Just do it.”

A harsh whistling noise hissed through his teeth as she pulled the other arm free. Sienna winced at the red burn on his muscular forearm and his burned palms and fingers. He surveyed the injuries and shrugged. “Not too bad. Considering that pyro demons can melt steel and reduce bones to ash.”

Fire strong enough to burn bone. They’d be dead, if not for Matt’s quick thinking.

“Thank you for saving me,” she said quietly.

He looked at her steadily with those deep blue eyes. “No problem. Your glamour helped us out of a tight spot. You’re not bad for a Fae.”

As she bristled, he added with a teasing smile, “And you’re much prettier than the ones I’ve run up against.”

The whiteness of his teeth contrasted with his dirty face. Sienna felt a tug of unwanted attraction. He was a cool operator, and the sheer sexiness of that smile melted her.

She found a medical kit in the main bathroom and washed his injuries, treating them with a cooling cream. His jaw turned to stone as he endured her ministrations. It had to hurt, but he was stoic.

Hard muscles of his arm quivered beneath her fingers as she spread on the cream. Mingling with the stench of ash and soot was the delicious scent of his cologne, and something richer and purely male.

Her Draicon half reacted, making her soft and aching. Sienna bit her lip. Fae, she was Fae. Not Draicon.

When she’d bandaged the wounds, he turned. “Thanks.”

Tension hovered in the air as he gazed at her, his expression steady and warm.

Sienna stared at his jaw, the bristle shadowing his lean cheeks. So different from her, so very male.

So very Draicon.

A small, but persistent connection flared between them. He rested a bandaged hand over hers. She shivered, imagining him undressing her, those big hands gliding over her body, coaxing and teasing….