Sapphire Flame: A Paranormal Romance (The Flame Series Book 7) Read online

  Kryder came from a different time. He’d been in Five Bridges for almost thirty years. He’d been a mechanic before his alter transformation. A biker. A dope runner. A killer. What he’d become after moving to Savage was more of the same but heightened with new power, ability and sheer size.

  Five Bridges, especially in the early years, had given men like Kryder a license to murder as they pleased. The Phoenix Police Department never interfered in crimes committed within the walls of their alter world.

  Kryder didn’t believe for a second he’d done anything wrong in brutally raping an eighteen-year-old. It was his right as alpha.

  Grant kept his gaze pinned to Kryder’s face. If he understood one thing about the man, it was the necessity of standing up to him, right up to the mark.

  “I want all three women returned. They’re mine.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Kryder glanced around. “Where the fuck is Ryan? I saw him from across the way.” His voice was a deep, heavy bass. “His shitty paws are all over this.”

  “Again, I don’t know what you’re talking about, Alpha.” He used his title purposefully. “I’ve been in here drilling the females. We’ve had rogue sightings all week and I don’t intend for any of our members to get caught or hurt by their kind.” This much was true. Whenever he spoke to Kryder, he chose each word carefully. He was never sure if Kryder heard them all, but specific words ignited his alpha duties even if he continued to hurt his own people.

  “That’s right,” a female voice called out from the pit below where all nine women now stood in a line. Kryder turned to look at the intruder and Grant shook his head at her.

  But she was one of the more stubborn females and apparently was going to have her say. “He’s been drilling us, Alpha, for the past hour. Only I wish to hell he’d drill me instead.”

  Grant’s brows rose, and his lips twitched.

  The bunched muscles of Kryder’s arm began to relax. To Grant’s surprise, the alpha guffawed, his broad chest shaking.

  His amusement didn’t last long, however. He turned back to Grant a scowl drawing his features down. “I’m always amazed by futurists. Know what I mean? How did she know I’d be laughing when I’m furious with you?”

  Grant tried a change of subject. “What futurist?” Was this a clue to how Kryder operated?

  The alpha’s amber eyes hardened as he held Grant’s gaze. “None of your goddamn business. Now, where are the women?”

  “I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Kryder’s lip twisted into a grimace. “Like hell you don’t.”

  When Kryder’s fist came at him, Grant took it on the chin. The blow threw him against the cement wall. The impact knocked the wind out of him.

  By long practice, he slid down to the floor. Every bone in his body wanted to leap back up and take Kryder on. He’d fly straight up into the air, tilt back slightly, pull his knees in just enough then with his forward momentum shove his boots into Kryder’s chest. He’d carry him across the seats, over the railing then ride him down to the sandpit and the battle would be on.

  He’d wanted to do this from the time Kryder had ordered his wife’s murder.

  Instead, he reined in his temper and stayed on the floor.

  Kryder bunched his fists tight. “Get up, you piece of shit, and fight me like a man.”

  Grant spit blood from his mouth, closed his eyes in what he trusted was a sickly manner then rolled onto his stomach. He’d feigned passing out a dozen times in the past.

  The blows from Kryder’s boots were already punching at his ribs. After six long years of dealing with this monster, however, Grant knew how to take it.

  For the sake of the three young wolves, for Ryan, for his entire pack, he’d do it a thousand times over.

  An hour later, he reclined on a bed in the compound’s medical unit. The wolf attending him, Dr. Thorpe, had been an internist in his previous life. But alter medicine wasn’t nearly as intensive as normal human treatment.

  Thorpe now sat on a stool beside the bed leafing through a car magazine.

  “How bad is it this time?” Grant asked. He smiled as he asked the question. Unless the wounds were fatal, his long-lived healing kicked in fast and kept on coming.

  Thorpe looked up from his magazine. “He got a couple shots to the kidneys, and two of your ribs are broken. I’d say one more hour and you’ll be good as new.”

  Grant adjusted the bed to a sitting position but forced himself to stay put. If Kryder was anywhere near when Grant left the medical bay, he might want another beating session.

  But after a few minutes, his usual restlessness set in. He was a man who liked to be doing. His ass planted on a med-bed wasn’t his style at all.

  He gritted his teeth as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He took a few deep breaths. He could all but feel the ribs knitting together at light speed. It was one of the best parts of his alter life.

  Thorpe knew him well and didn’t bother yelling at him to stay. Instead, he smiled and handed Grant his black tank top.

  Grant grunted as he put it back on. Though his normal duties included serving as a Border Patrol officer, he had the night off. The extra time meant he could run more drills with the pack wolves, go over administrative duties with Ryan, or any of a dozen tasks he’d set for himself over the years.

  Thorpe rose from his stool, his magazine slung under his arm. “Eat a couple of steaks, bloody as all hell, and you should be good to go.”

  Grant’s stomach rumbled. He decided to take Thorpe’s advice and headed in the direction of the kitchens.

  As he left the med-bay, however, his wolf instincts vibrated heavily up and down his spine. He wasn’t sure if it was his confrontation with Kryder or something else, though he leaned toward the latter.

  He was on the third, belowground level of the compound. Near the med-bay was a door with a sign that said ‘Supplies’. He knew every room in the compound but this one didn’t look familiar. He’d have to ask Ryan about it later.

  As he headed to the ground floor, he received all kinds of thanks for taking one for the team yet again. He had to admit, though, he was tired of being Kryder’s punching bag.

  Another vibration traveled down his spine. The uneasy sensation grew stronger.

  He contacted Ryan telepathically. Everything okay where you are?

  Fine, but are you ready to serve because we’ve got a situation?

  And there it was.

  Ryan usually pushed him to take it easy after Kryder unleashed some hurt, but not this time.

  Grant looked at both his hands. He felt the strangest tingling race up his forearms then over his biceps. He felt odd, as though he could almost sense the future, which was more a fae trait than wolf. What’s goin’ on?

  I just got a call from the Revel Border Patrol. A fae who lives near the Graveyard called in to report three wolves attacking a woman not far from where the canal ends. Revel thought we might want to take care of this ourselves.

  It was the right call. Better to have wolves taking down wolves than the fae Border Patrol.

  Grant experienced a sudden, powerful need to head out there. I’m on it. When it came to Revel, he had his own making-up to do. He’d always regretted his part in the Fae-Wolf wars. Since that time, he’d bent over backwards to repair the damage that had been done to the relationship between territories.

  ~ ~ ~

  Natalie McKinnon felt a sudden, profound need to strangle the human sitting in the tall, winged-back chair. Terry was complaining about her husband, also a human, who didn’t pay her enough attention.

  Natalie tried to be sympathetic, she really did. Instead, her patience had run thin and all she wanted to do was slap the female silly for being such a small creature. Wasn’t she aware that while she could travel the world at her leisure because of the money her husband earned with future information Natalie provided, Natalie’s world would forever be confined to Rev
el Territory in the alter world of Five Bridges? Couldn’t Terry see how blessed she was?

  Natalie met with her clients in her futurist studio in an upscale part of Revel Territory. Both witches and fae could reach into the future. She’d even heard some deadtalkers could as well. Almost from the beginning, she’d earned her bread-and-butter with her futurist gift.

  Right now, she was positioned behind the tall client chair, which was her preferred way of working.

  Terry continued to mumble her complaints. Same-old, same-old and boring as hell.

  Natalie took deep breaths. She’d heard recently that in order to grow calm one had to take seven breaths, though she suspected given her state of mind, she’d probably need twenty.

  She admitted she’d been less than patient lately. Something was going on with her, she just didn’t know what. She enjoyed an excellent seven-figure annual income from her work as a fae futurist, the name she preferred to ‘fortune teller’. For being confined to Five Bridges, she had a beautiful canal-side home, a lovely studio in a park-like setting and everything she could need.

  When Terry paused in her whining, Natalie said, “Shall we begin?”

  “Yes, yes. Of course. I almost forgot why I was here.”

  No kidding. “Just relax.”

  Natalie steeled herself to enter the future. She was grateful she earned a lot of money, because it hurt to bust open the secrets of what-was-to-come, or at least it did for her.

  She took one final deep breath and prepared for the severe cramping she would experience all up and down her spine. The spasming of her muscles had just begun, when a ghost appeared next to her, though not within Terry’s view.

  Natalie jumped.

  The ghost, a woman, seemed disgruntled, like she had better things to do. She was a mass of vaporous, well-delineated lines that were in full color. She shoved her long blond hair behind her shoulders then crossed her arms over her chest as she met Natalie’s gaze.

  Natalie had never had a ghost visit her before.

  The woman reached for Natalie telepathically. You need to help my husband. He’s trying to save one of your kind. The woman got mauled or something. It’s bad.

  The ghost vanished.

  Natalie lifted a finger in protest. She needed more information. A location, for instance, would be useful.

  Ghosts usually didn’t come to visit. That was Deadtalker territory. She was a Revel fae. She dealt with what was to come, not spirits who had passed.

  Who was this ghost’s husband? And where was this event supposed to be taking place? “What the hell?”

  Her words broke the trance. Her client said, “That was faster than usual. Did you see my dear hubs in the future? Should he invest in the start-up or not?”

  “I didn’t see him.” Natalie hadn’t had time. She’d barely made the absurdly painful connection to the future when the apparition disrupted her concentration.

  The ghost returned suddenly. With a roll of her eyes, she directed her thoughts once more to Natalie. My husband is battling three wolves in the Graveyard right where the canal ends. You know, that place where hell begins? She glanced off to the side, pensive. I think I died not far from there. Jesus.

  The ghost gave herself a shake which sent the vapor trails moving across each other and disrupting the blond woman’s appearance. Natalie was surprised by the vivid colors she created: the dark blue of her jeans, the light blue of her eyes, the autumn gold of her hair. She wore it parted down the middle and straight. She wasn’t wearing shoes. Seemed like an outdoorsy, athletic type.

  The ghost made a mental scoffing sound then telepathed, Why are you still here? If you don’t get the lead out, that woman’s going to die. She’s fae, like you. Doesn’t that mean anything? As I recall, you fae-types were all about Revel and nothing else.

  Natalie’s turn to snort. As though the other alter species didn’t put their territories first. Half the problem with the Five Bridges was how often the different species tangled based on territorial loyalty alone.

  She could admit, however, that she was no different. She responded telepathically to the ghost. I take it I’m headed to the small access bridge at the edge of the Graveyard.

  That’s right. And in case you’re wondering, my husband is important to Five Bridges. He needs to unseat Kryder. That bastard’s a real psycho.

  Natalie knew about the alpha of the Meldorin Pack. He had one of the worst reputations in Savage.

  The ghost continued, In case you’re wondering the woman in the Graveyard stopped screaming a good minute ago. She wrinkled her ghostly nose. A lot of blood. I forgot how visceral this world is.

  Natalie had lived in Five Bridges long enough to know the ghost was serious about the timeline. If the woman’s husband, whoever he might prove to be, was battling rogue wolves in the Graveyard, then she needed to get her butt over there.

  Natalie nodded. On my way.

  ‘Bout time. Good luck. The facetious tone of the latter remark didn’t give Natalie much hope. But she’d do what she could, for a fae-sister, just as her visitor had said.

  Once more the ghost disappeared.

  Natalie plucked her client’s purse from off the small round table next to the oversized chair and handed it to the woman. “We have to reschedule, Terry. I have an emergency.”

  “But what about Jim’s investment?”

  Natalie spoke as she turned around to the cupboard behind her. “Sorry. Can’t help you right now. I gotta go save someone. We’ve talked enough about Five Bridges for you to have a basic understanding of our world.”

  She opened a cabinet door and secured her Glock and holster. She’d had too many intruders over the years not to be armed.

  She buckled her holster over her silk smock. She wore leggings and flat shoes. Not the best gear to go into the cactus-infested Graveyard. But it would have to do. At least she could levitate.

  Though she was a strong futurist, she rarely consulted her gift on her own behalf. Knowing the future could be a real pain in the ass, something she avoided like the plague. She gave wolves a wide berth as well.

  “Go home, Terry. I’ll be in touch. Lock the door behind you.”

  She was levitating by the time she reached the door of her studio. She heard Terry’s protests trailing after her, the usual something about how she’d paid ‘good money’, blah, blah, blah.

  Natalie resisted the urge to flip her off.

  She flung her studio door wide, scanned the skies then shot into the air.

  ~ ~ ~

  Grant kept the battle away from the woman. She’d passed out again, thank God, but he had no confidence she’d make it. She’d lost a helluva lot of the red stuff. He’d even gotten a heavy swathe of her blood pouring down his arm when he tried to lift her out of the Graveyard. But the wolves had returned for another attack and he’d set her back down on the ground, so he could face her attackers again.

  The three rogue wolves in front of him were Neo-Nazi skinheads which seemed like putting a cliché on a cliché. Each had lengthening muzzles which meant they intended to shift. They were also hopped up on a variety of flame drugs evidenced by the different colors of flames on their necks and cheeks. The problem was, given the level of drugs, if they shifted, Grant would be up shit creek. He could battle mano-a-mano since he had a blade on him. But he doubted he could survive a three-wolf onslaught in full fur.

  They’d brought the woman to the Graveyard, so they could do what they wanted without being seen. The Graveyard, a no-man’s-land that separated all five territories, was a dumping zone for Five Bridges, and was meant to keep the territories separated. Debris of all kind littered the rocky, weed-and-cactus strewn ground.

  The dying woman had blue flames all over her body. Grant had no doubt she’d been shot up with sapphire flame, but why? She’d been mauled, not used for her futurist expertise, which was the general purpose of the drug these days for gifted fae.

  The wolves began to spread out.

  More fur a
ppeared.

  A string of foul words shot through his head.

  This crew had been working together awhile. They had a strategy and liked making war. They liked hurting women as well. His rage kicked up a notch sending another cozy flood of adrenaline through his veins.

  The wolf on Grant’s left shifted his gaze for a split-second. “What the fuck?”

  A gunshot stunned the airwaves. The wolf went down with a hole in the middle of his chest, dead as soon as he hit the ground.

  Grant had served as a Border Patrol officer for almost the entire six years he’d been in Five Bridges. He didn’t bother to look at who’d come to support him. All he knew was he had reinforcements and his battling instincts kicked in.

  He levitated, added a thrust of power and aimed for the wolf in the center. He hit his chest square and the pair of them flew back about ten feet. The wolf landed on broken up concrete. Hard.

  Grant heard the crack, levitated off the dying wolf and turned to face the last assailant. He half expected his support personnel would fire off another shot, but realized he was caught in-between.

  No problem. He’d take the third one out himself. Hell, he wanted to. He’d needed a battle after Kryder’s beating.

  Emerald flames pulsed on the wolf’s face as well as blue, and he came at Grant screaming, but no weapon in hand. When he got close, Grant reached across the man’s chest, grabbed his opposite arm at the elbow, levitated and jerked the wolf through the air. The man landed not far from the broken-up cement but was on his feet in a flash. The flame drugs always added a meth-like quality of increased wolf strength.

  But Grant hadn’t served on the Border Patrol or answered every dominance fight without a ‘hell, yeah’. He worked out and kept his muscles tight and toned. He sparred with hand-to-hand as well as swords. Plus, this wolf was drugged-up and out-of-control. His kind relied on numbers, which he’d just lost.