Stallion of Ash and Flame (Siren Publishing Classic) (5 page)

Several minutes later, he heard the whooshing roll of tires. Whipping around to check out the drive, he recognized Mandy Morgan’s showy red SUV. No doubt she came to care for her two mares, but her curiosity had to be turned up to boiling since she’d practically insisted he go apply as Seneca’s temporary hired hand.

Heading out of Rory’s domain to tell Seneca of Mandy’s arrival, he found her already near the front door strapping on a small pistol.

“Several of the other owners will be showing up soon. I’ll just tell them I saw a good-sized rattler,” she explained. Keeping her gaze keen on his face, she continued, “If you still want the job, now might be the best time to go get your gear.”

“Less chance of another attack,” he agreed. “I have some ways to make your house more secure. Want me to make the purchases?”

She eyed him more intensely now, her eyes like knives of turquoise as she took a few moments to think it over. “We have an account with Wilson’s Hardware. I’ll give them a call. Let ‘em know it’s okay.”

“Thanks. Shouldn’t take me long to load up and
make that stop.” Dammit, he didn’t want to leave her, especially since danger stalked them like a pack of hungry wolves. And hell, how desperately did he want to taste her lips with a long
deep kiss?

Instead, he opened the door for her. She gave him a speculative glance, then strode out, waving to Mandy. After performing an obligatory wave, Trail strode toward his pickup. The sooner he got everything done, the sooner he could return. His long strides carried him quickly to the old-style, dull green pickup that looked like the work horse it was for him.

Before sliding inside, he aimed his awareness, looking for any kind of sabotage. If anyone did know who he true identity, he’d be a target for assassination. More likely, though,
most op groups would try capturing him, then get out the dissecting tools once they’d used any and all available talent to interrogate him.

Finding nothing, Trail slipped behind the wheel, rapidly backing out onto her drive. He’d parked next to her heavy-duty pickup and her sporty little Eclipse
.

One night, he’d watched her as she’d eased out of the low slung seat on the way to a dance. The gorgeous shape of her legs had been highlighted in the neon light of the club’s sign. Plus, the light spilling out from the open door had framed her lushly curved body. He’d battled a savage hard-on for the rest of that evening, finally letting Paula, the most aggressive of the women who chased him for sex, have her way with him.

Near the end of the drive, he waved to Gary and Donna as he passed, feeling some relief Seneca would have more people around her. When he turned onto the blacktop of the highway, it struck him as if a stud rival’s teeth ripped at his hide. If he truly wanted to protect her, he would have to mate her. That would give him the connection he needed to keep her as the prime frequency in his awareness, always, as was the way of equine herds.

He had to
mate
her, though, not merely make love to her or indulge his carnal appetite for her.

Fire Devouring Stallion

The mere thought straightened his cock to a ramrod. Trail shifted uncomfortably and confronted another reality. When a stallion wanted a mare this desperately, his happiness was only in being with her as his mate, precisely what his world forbid.

Still, now was now. Danger stalked them both. The future would have to take care of itself. Trail realized like a rival’s chomp out of his rump, Seneca wouldn’t be easy to seduce. That understanding did nothing to ease his cock.

As an equine male, he could see her defenses shining bright as a neon sign around her. Trail rubbed his chin, pondering. Even if he did seduce her, then
mate
her, he had to accomplish his lovemaking in a manner that would impress her enough to let him stay. She could use her strong will to shove her feelings down and deny the binding that occurred between them.

Trail hit the steering wheel with the heel of his hand, hard. Frustration owned him as the vision formed inside his mind. Minutes ago, a nasty firebombing had taken place. The towers of flame erupted before his mind’s eye.

Making a sharp right onto a back road, he smashed the pedal down, blasting the speedometer up to ninety in seconds.

The fire spread rapidly, and he’d been the stallion designated to handle it. Actually, he was the only one of his race in this immediate region. It had been decided there would be less risk of discovery if they all remained on their own.

Increasing the truck’s speed, he pressed a button on the front panel, one only he could see. Instantly, a shield of invisibility surrounded the truck. He sure as hell didn’t have time to deal with any local patrol or the satellites monitoring everyone’s travel. Already, he sent a tech signal from his small array secreted inside the radio that confused the satellites’ capability to track his movements.

Grateful the fire’s location was more accessible than some, he sped the truck through the high elevation forest until the road ended. Jerking open the door, he leapt outside and tore off his clothes, then tossed them back into the pickup. In moments, he phased into his stallion shape. Pivoting sharply on his hind hooves, he galloped toward the odor of burning foliage. Within a few strides, his blood thrummed savagely, and huge breaths puffed in and out of his lungs, enhancing his sense of smell a thousand
fold.
The Fire Starters. His nostrils didn’t lie. Their arson always produced a distinct stench.

The moment his hooves struck the crackling outer flames of the roaring forest fire, he transformed into a blazing horse. Instinctively, he followed the center of the firestorm, his blaze form powerful enough to devour the towering spires of flame around him before they ferociously fed on any
more brush and trees.

On and on, he raced as a flame stallion, drawing the fire’s force into himself and leaving only cool dry ash in his wake. Around him, the sinuous beauty raged and spiked like lightning bolts in his energy system, fueling him as he absorbed it. Powerfully surging through the heart of the inferno, he neared the origin point and quickly realized the Fire Starters waited for whoever had been stopping their carefully crafted fires.

Veering swiftly, he shot his fiery essence toward another area covered in small leaping flames. Then he circled away from his enemies while sucking in the remaining life of the fire. Hearing the Fire Starters chase after him in plasma-powered vehicles, he phased to ash, a grayish shape of his stallion form, and galloped effortlessly through the remaining smoke.

The instant he sensed the confusion of his pursuers, he headed in the direction of the pickup and soared faster over the charred ground. Remaining blended with the hazy residue, he gained the advantage. Soon clear of their pursuit, he gradually phased back into a flesh and blood stallion. It was easier and faster to shift into his human shape once he closed in on his pickup.

He ran the last half mile at a furious pace while he mind-tuned into the elusive Fire Starters. Careful not to tip them off to his psi presence, he received fleeting impressions only, mostly a review of how he’d interfered with their master plan to establish their dominance in this particular area. Still, he caught a glimpse of something new, their mission. They planned to establish a base, hidden in the depths of the forest. Earth possessed the necessary resources for their vessels and the Fire Starters planned to use the way station for both conquest and contact with other worlds.

While mind-scanning them, he’d gained no insight about why they’d chosen burning sections of the forest as a means to that end. Were they attempting to drive out groups of people, Earthers and OtherWorlders, dwelling within a certain radius? Or their motive could be far more sinister. His world’s portal wasn’t the only one in the area. Within a hundred miles of his location there were, at least, ten others he knew about, one of them being a stargate used by Earth’s Shadow government.
Seeing the outline of his pickup in the waning light, he abruptly slowed his gait, settling into a fast trot. With a buck and flick of his tail, he forced himself to halt at the tree
line. Everything in him raged to dash for his truck before he took the precaution of sensing for enemies or anyone else’s presence.

She waited for him, his beautiful stubborn Seneca. Or, if she didn’t, she waited whether she knew it or not.

Flashing his tail impatiently, he sent his awareness out and psi-scanned. The only thing he found was a forest ranger closing in on the site of the fire. After shaking himself like a big dog, he shifted to human. The cooler air of sundown sheered over his human skin as he ran like a marathoner for the truck. Glad to throw his clothes back on, Trail dived back into his truck.

Filled to the brim with the frequency of fire, he wasted no time pressing on the invisibility shield and stomping on the accelerator. Hell, if he didn’t have to load up his belongings and purchase the security items he needed, Trail would have phased himself back to her place and come up with an explanation for why he wasn’t in his truck. However, Wilson’s Hardware would be closing shortly.

Once he closed in on the edge of town, he slowed to the speed limit, then made the truck visible again. The only traffic on the main road were those folks headed home after work or heading into town for some shopping, maybe an early dinner at one of the two drive-ins, or one of the four restaurants. The three bars in town rarely competed for customers. One of them served as a hangout for serious drinkers and pool players. The other two were dance
clubs with bars. One western, the other an oldies rock ‘n roll club with theme nights.

Hanging a left, then driving a couple of blocks, he pulled into the gravel parking lot of Wilson’s Hardware, actually a farming and ranching center for the local area. Relieved there weren’t many customers, he headed inside. After giving a wave to Henry, the manager, he strode down the familiar aisles, quickly gathering up the items he wanted.

Sherry’s face lit up with a
large smile as he laid his items down. Liking the woman, he answered with a big grin of his own.

“Hey, Handsome, we’ve been expecting you. Seneca called down to let us know you were picking up some stuff for her. You working for her now?” Speculatively she eyed his items.

“Yep, until Rory can get back on his feet.”

“She certainly does need a man up at her place. Out there all alone,” Sherry chattered as she rang everything up. “I hear Rory is eatin’ up Clara’s full time attention and gettin’ along pretty good, considerin’ how many bones he cracked up crashin’ that fancy chrome motorcycle.” She paused for a breath. “Now, I just can’t see Clara and Seneca getting along all that well.” She handed him the slip to sign. “You know, that is, if Rory and Clara decide to make it permanent.”

He gave Sherry an appreciative gaze. “Lot of land at their place. Could be Rory will build another house, if he and Clara decide to get hitched.”

“Could be.” Sherry nodded while bagging up his purchases. “You know, Seneca is a good-lookin’ woman. You got a man’s eye for her?”

“Enough to warn the other male talent around here to stay away.” He grinned lazily, and knew Sherry got the message. His words would fly on the gossip hotlines fast as dirt clods flying from beneath his racing hooves. He tipped his hat, grabbed up the bags and headed for the door.

Hopping back in the truck, he backed out as if he weren’t in a rush and cruised the few blocks to the tiny house he’d rented. It didn’t take him long to load up the pickup and start back for her place. Keeping his minimal amount of belongings organized had been a necessity. If an enemy closed in and he needed to make a fast getaway, he’d be prepared. Besides, his few possessions went along with his image as a good-times’ rambler always on the move. He’d made certain to let everyone know
he was ready for a more settled life as long as he could find enough work, though.

Furrowing his brow, Trail watched the sun’s rays streak the sky with shades of deep pink. He hoped some of Seneca’s horse people still hung around, since it was strategically smart if he drove at a normal speed. Quick as the idea struck, he cautiously reached out to Chief, sending a mental image of himself in his human form to the paint horse. If the wise elder proved receptive, he could ask him what was going on.

Drojovv Zyan, stallion from the V’Trailuc Realm. I am known as Trail.
He formally introduced himself the moment Chief accepted his communication.

Chief sent back an image of him pawing a signal of greeting. After returning a similar greeting, Trail telepathed an image of Seneca. He tail-switched a question about her well-being.

I can speak human
, Chief answered.
Your mare is nervous. I smell trouble around us. She is bringing all of us inside, feeding us. I will be the last.

Are there any humans around her?
Trail edged up the pickup’s speed.

The woman, Mary, and her mate, Harold, are still riding in the big circle. Where is Rory?

He is with his mare, Clara. Do you know her?

I like her. Rory should be here. He would heal faster in his own territory.

Trail spared a grin at Chief’s typical equine logic.
You know humans are not wise in many ways.

Your mare told me I am leaving soon. She will miss me. I do not want to leave.

I will talk with her. It is dangerous to stay. You were harmed.

Yes, your mare told me the danger. I want to stay, stallion Trail. I will keep watch for the bad people.

What can you tell me about the bad people?

They are not full humans. Some of them smell ugly like bad water.

How many do you know about?