Hidden Passions (5 page)

Puppy
. . . was Chris's too-fond final conscious thought.

BLACK smoke clung to the ceiling in the apartment's hall as if announcing a coming storm. Company No. 5--Chris and Evina's station--had been called to a four-story residence fire. The serious blaze was at three alarms. Station 12 was venting the roof in hopes of luring the oxygen-greedy fire away from Search and Rescue's route. Most of the building's tenants were huddled in the street.

Chris and his team were hunting down the rest.

Though the fire wasn't magic-fed, it was nasty. Scorching temperatures licked at Chris through his protective gear. Even his feet were sweltering, his spell-strengthened turnout boots transmitting heat from the floor.

If that weren't enough of a challenge, visibility was crap.

Billows of gray mist blocked what light came in from the windows, and the power was out. Swaddled in their big coats and SCBA masks, Chris's men were hulking shadows among the gloom. That is, they were shadows when they were close enough to see. When they weren't, the best way to find each other was by shouting.

"RFD!" Liam bellowed behind Chris. The rookie was checking the right-hand units, leaving the left to Chris. "Call out if you're inside!"

A lock-busting backward kick from Liam's boot followed. Light flickered brighter. The apartment the kid had breached had a pocket of fire inside.

"No life signs, Liam." Evina's calm and weirdly distant voice came through their helmet comms. "Move on to the next unit."

Their chief was watching the fire in her astral form, seeing what they couldn't--and in ways they couldn't--with spirit eyes. Her actual body sat in the station's special sensory-shielded van. Being able to simultaneously astral project and vocalize was an uncommon gift for tigers. Chris had it too, but tonight he was on rescue.

Knowing their boss could only see so much at once, he kicked open the next door on the left side. "RFD!" he bellowed like Liam had. "Call out if you're inside!"

His sharp tiger ears heard nothing: no voices, no heartbeats, just the eerie sigh and crackle of the fire. Part of him wanted to call for hoses, but the resulting super-heated steam would have made further searching impossible. Accustomed to threatening environs, he didn't panic when the flames brightened. His pulse was quicker than normal but steady.

"Nothing," he said for the benefit of the rest, though he couldn't see well enough to tell anyone which unit he'd just cleared.

"Found a live one," came Jonah's voice on the radio. The building's halls formed a
T
. Jonah and Syd were clearing the crossbar on this, the third floor. "We've got no egress nearby. The fire's blocked the next stairwell."

"Backtrack to me and Liam," Chris instructed, suspecting Evina might have to guide the others in the nearly nonexistent visibility. "Station 12 has a ladder at the hall-end window behind us."

Jonah didn't answer but gasped suddenly in shock. "Shit," he said, his voice cracking. "Syd went down. I think he's unconscious."

"Stay calm," Chris advised. "He probably got too hyped and used up his air supply. Can you drag him and carry your victim too?"

"Yes," Jonah said more steadily. "Doing it." Chris heard grunts of effort and then, "Boss, before he dropped, Syd claimed he heard someone moan in the next unit. I think it's the final one on the right."

Chris had to decide quickly. The moan might be nothing. Fire made a lot of sounds, and Syd didn't have as much experience as some at distinguishing them. Evina didn't comment, her attention likely pulled off them to something more important to the big picture. Chris checked his air gauge. Ten minutes remained in his SCBA tank. If the fire didn't get more hairy, he could check it out, no trouble.

"It could be that lady's kids," Liam put in. "The one who screamed like a banshee when we drove up. She said they were on this floor."

Chris remembered. The woman had been hysterical. Parents often were--though sometimes it turned out their kids were safe miles away, and in their terror they'd forgotten.

"All right," he said. "I'll move up to Jonah's position. Jonah, get your victim and Syd to safety. Watch your step. The floor isn't stable in some places."

"Should I finish checking this hall?" Liam asked.

The kid was game as hell but--like Syd--less experienced. "Call out and listen. Do it quick and no more door busting. You hear nothing or anything goes sideways, you hightail it out of here."

Satisfied he'd obey, Chris let his eyes change enough to gain the benefit of his cat's night vision. Though he still saw colors, they were muted.

He picked up the pace as he went forward. He might not have the time he thought. Fire seldom did what people expected. As he neared the
T
intersection, the smoke thickened noticeably, further blurring the light from his helmet lamp. He bumped Jonah's shoulder before realizing the big cat was there. Jonah was moving quickly too. He stayed low, hunched with his unconscious rescue on one shoulder. It was lucky the cat was strong. Syd's body bumped and tilted as Jonah dragged him by the scruff of his turnout coat. Chris checked the tiger's aura. His light was lower than normal, but it was there.

"Syd's okay," he called back to Jonah before continuing.

He had to feel along the wall with his fireproof glove to find the final apartment. The door hadn't been kicked open, so Chris turned his back to it and forced entry. His adrenaline must have been pretty amped. He burst the hinges and the lock, toppling the door into the unit with a bang like a gunshot.

He ducked instinctively, just in time. A wall of heat blasted back toward him. The fire had got a good hold here. When he squinted through the rippling air, he spotted drapes blazing like torches against a wall. The windows were black from the smoke outside, the various furniture shapes burning or not with seeming capriciousness. If the kids who were supposed to be in here were mundanes, no way were they alive now.

If they were shifters or something else with juice, maybe he could save them.

"Fire Department!" Chris shouted. "Call out if you're inside!"

Hearing nothing, he crouched and looked lower. Most kids had the sense to keep to the floor if they were able to. He saw a wavering darker shape that might have been a body but couldn't tell from the threshold.

"Call out!" he repeated, using his tiger power to amplify the sound. "I need to know you're here!"

He forced his eyes to change a few ticks more. The unnatural partial shift triggered a sharp headache but allowed him to see the glimmer of a still-alive aura. He gasped in surprise at what he spotted next. There were
two
auras--two little guttering match flames inside the inferno.

"Chris." Evina's urgent voice crackled in his helmet. "Get out of there right now. The fire is spiking. Your floor is about to flashover."

She meant the temperature had increased enough for the bank of sooty smoke above him to reignite.

Chris wasn't crazy. His gear was good but not meant to withstand that kind of hell. Fear flooded through his veins, threatening to turn his powerful shifter muscles to water.

"Can't," he said, despite the reaction. "I've got two life signs."

"
Chris
," she ordered in a full alpha snarl. "Back the fuck out of there."

Ignoring her, he edged inside the door, obliged to physically push against the thickness of the hot air. Alarms began beeping, the safety device on his suit going off. He didn't need it to tell him the heat had jumped dangerously. He could feel it through his thick coat.
Crap
, he thought, fighting panic. Was his faceplate melting?

Help
, said the tiniest telepathic voice in his head. The voice wasn't Evina's.
Please
, said a second.
We're still in here
.

He couldn't get to them. There wasn't time, and the fire was too furious. His ribs tightened with distress. They were
kids
. He couldn't leave them behind.

Not after what had happened to his brothers.

"
Chris
," Evina growled through the radio.

His inner conflict was too great. Something snapped inside him, the sensation so visceral that at first he thought a bone had broken. He realized it wasn't that when his vision shifted completely to shades of gray.

His tiger nature had seized control of him.

He hadn't known it could do that without him changing form. Unlike his human self, his tiger wasn't afraid at all. It strode without hesitation toward where he'd seen the small life signs.

The kids lay together under a table. The girl might have been seven, and the boy was younger. No more than semi-conscious, they'd pooled their auras together, using their power as an envelope to shield them from the flames. Their skin was red but, as yet, they weren't burned badly.

Elves
, Chris thought, noting their pointy ears. As he did, his tiger-controlled body crouched down and dragged them out. Time slowed strangely the moment he held their childish weight. Cinders and burning chunks were raining down on them. He sensed the fire gathering its strength for a new expansion--or maybe his tiger did. His tiger ripped off his fireproof coat, using it to wrap around the kids. Chris was a shifter. He
might
survive more exposure. These elf kids had exhausted their resources. They didn't stand a chance without protection.

The fire flashed over even as the scorching agony of the existing blaze registered on his skin. Balls of yellow and black flame boiled through the ceiling smoke. Chris's tiger ran for the door with the kids clutched to his bare chest. His shirt had ignited the instant his coat came off. He felt the blistering heat and didn't at the same time. His tiger was in charge of his limbs, bounding him at shifter speed down the hall, dodging falling timbers and open holes in the disintegrating floor.

His beast knew where they were going. Chris's eyes were too hot to see. Apparently, Station 12 had humped a hose up their ladder and opened up a stream. Steam boiled at him instead of fire, knocking him to a halt. Someone shouted and shut off the water. Given an opening, his tiger dove out the window, his precious cargo hugged tight to him.

Chris would have killed human firemen, catapulting at them that way. The tigers on the ladder caught and slowed him.

"Get a medic!" someone shouted as strong hands passed him to the ground. "He's still alive!"

His arms were paralyzed in position. Someone pried them apart.

"Jesus," they breathed. "He's got two kids in his coat."

Chris couldn't choke out the question he needed the answer to.

"They're alive," the fireman who'd called for the paramedics exclaimed. "I hear faint heartbeats."

Chris tried to thank him but passed out cold instead.

~

Chris bolted up gasping and sweaty, the dream momentarily more real than his surroundings. He was in an unfamiliar bed, in an open loft, with a sleeping man lying face down beside him. The sight of his companion's muscular back restored Chris's memory. He'd woken at Nate Rivera's, his alpha's new fiance. He'd had mind-blowing awesome sex with the cute gay werewolf from the party.

Chris rubbed his face, appreciating that the skin was smooth and not burn-scarred. The apartment fire was over. Chris had come through it.

"What is it?" his bed companion slurred into his pillow.

"Nothing. Go back to sleep."

Omega or not, Tony didn't listen. Unabashedly naked, he sat up and looked at him. They'd fallen asleep with the lights on, and Chris got a good eyeful. The strapping wolf was sleepy-eyed and gorgeous. His skin was tanned all over, his nipples tempting darker circles on his broad chest. His lips, which were flushed and kissable, curled teasingly. "Bad dream?"

The kid was the stuff of good dreams, for sure. Chris didn't want to darken Tony's brightness by explaining. Mind-blowing sex aside, they were strangers.

"I'm fine," he said, pulling his knees up and holding them.

Tony laid his hand behind Chris's shoulder. He didn't rub the muscle, just let the warmth of his palm sink in. "You were dreaming about that fire, the one that put you in the hospital."

His guess turned Chris's gaze to him. "You heard about that?'

"Please." Tony's manner was humorous. "Saving those kids made you a hero to heroes. You know how people talk in our lines of work."

Chris wasn't sure how he felt about that. In his mind, his tiger had done the deed. He hugged his knees closer, then released them. When he inhaled, he could smell his own fear sweat. "I need a shower."

"You want company?" Tony asked as he got out of bed.

Chris was tempted, but, "Not this time," he said.

Seemingly not upset, Tony flopped back and closed his eyes. "Wake me when you get back. I should have my second wind by then."

He'd completely stretched out his body, toes pointed, long leg muscles delineated, cock and balls rolling loosely between strong thighs. Chris remembered how it felt to fuck him, how Tony had cried out and bucked up him. His prick lengthened, more interested in another go than Chris's head was ready to handle.

Before his cock convinced him to climb back into bed, he strode to the nearby shower. The pelting spray washed the last of the dream away. His inner darkness wasn't entirely gone, but he was himself again: reliable, closeted Chris Savoy.

He found his clothes and dressed, deciding it was safer to have them on. Tony was fast asleep when he finished, curled around Chris's pillow with the sheets kicked to his ankles. His body was a true masterwork, not as substantial as a tiger's but genuinely strong. His cock lay limp, partially obscured by the pillow he was hugging. With nothing to stop him from staring, Chris curled his tongue over his upper lip. Waking that sleeping length--and Tony with it--would have been easy and pleasurable, especially since Chris would probably be the first man to introduce him to that delight. If Tony had been a different guy, Chris knew he'd have done it.

Sadly, Tony wasn't a different guy. He was out and sweet and a teensy bit flamboyant. Chris could get away with being pleasant to him but not with being secret fuck buddies. He believed Tony when he said he'd keep his mouth shut. The problem was, one hopeful look from those soft green eyes would give the game away. All his years of playing normal would have been for nothing.