Sharing Hazel: Lick of Fire

  SHARING HAZEL

  Lick of Fire // Fiery Blooms

  Kallysten

  A dragon, a lion and a fire tamer… Are they men enough to share this chimera?

  In a world of fated mates, Hazel doesn't have a name tattooed on her wrist like everyone else. She has three.

  From childhood, she was taught that one day she’d need to choose, and when the time came she did just that, picking one mate over the other even when she loved her dragon shifter just as much as her lion.

  Now the mate she left behind needs her help. His brother needs to be rescued from bigots who hate all paras. Hazel is in for the ride… before she even realizes it’s her third mate she’s on her way to saving.

  Time to choose again… or is it time to break all the rules?

  Copyright © 2018 Kallysten

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written consent of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  The right of Kallysten to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  First Published 2018

  All characters in this publication are purely fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Edited by Kristin W.

  CONTENTS

  Sharing Hazel

  Offer

  Lick of Fire Collection // Fiery Blooms Series

  Excerpt

  Other series

  About the author

  SHARING HAZEL

  CHAPTER ONE

  Two months, two days and six hours.

  In the nearly silent armory room, among almost a dozen of their peers, Petro watched Hazel get ready as he did the same. He tightened the buckles and straps that held his Kevlar vest and leg armor in place, pulling hard to make sure they wouldn’t move. They used to help each other when getting ready for a mission, each of them double-checking the other’s armor. It wouldn’t happen today. She was already asking another member of the team to check her straps for her.

  She hadn’t talked to him in two months, two days and six hours. Not since telling him it was over between them.

  Well, that wasn’t entirely true. They’d talked about the mission when he’d relayed her orders to her. Worse: they’d talked about the weather two days earlier, an empty “Nasty weather we’re having today” followed by an equally trite “Hopefully it clears up before the mission” that had meant absolutely nothing to either of them.

  He missed the sound of her voice. He missed her laughter, too. And maybe that was why, when Ryan and Violet bantered about knives, he joined in. If he could only make Hazel laugh… even just a smile…

  He forced out a chuckle when Violet, a phoenix shifter, extended three inches worth of talons from each of her fingers. He knew how deadly they could be, but he couldn’t help but say, “You call that talons?”

  Out of his closed fist, he extended one finger—his middle finger—and let out just enough of his inner dragon so that his nail grew to seven inches of supernatural metal.

  Ryan’s snort proclaimed his disgust for all to hear, but his eyes didn’t lie: he was amused, and grateful for this opportunity to relax before they went out on the mission.

  “Dragons,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Always got to brag about your size, huh? Almost like you’re compensating for something.”

  Petro didn’t bother pretending he was offended by the all too predictable remark and merely laughed, joining in with Ryan, Violet and a few of their peers. But when he threw a quick glance toward Hazel, he was disappointed to find a neutral expression on her features, her eyes a little unfocused as she stared at the wall across from where she sat on a low bench. The painful cracks in Petro’s heart felt like they were widening again.

  If anyone else on the squad had looked so withdrawn, Petro would have talked to them one-on-one to make sure they were ready for the coming fight, or he’d have shared his doubts with Millie, their leader. But he knew if he tried to talk to Hazel she’d deny anything was wrong, and if he took things to Millie she’d just remind him that she’d warned him against becoming involved with another member of the squad.

  As if he’d had any choice in the matter.

  For all her disapproval, Millie wouldn’t have tried standing between tattoo mates—and that was what he and Hazel were.

  Before he could convince himself that Hazel’s state of mind was likely to put her—and all of them—in danger, Millie came into the armory. While the rest of them wore black fatigues, including hoods that would disguise their hair and features, Millie had changed into the same dark blue uniform the guards at the containment center wore. All she did was nod, and they all followed her out of the armory and down to the garage, where the vans that would take them to the center awaited.

  Details of the mission had been carefully planned out, but who traveled in which van had not; somehow, Petro wasn’t all that surprised that Hazel chose the van he hadn’t climbed in. Maybe it was better this way. He couldn’t allow himself to be distracted, not now that the lives of every member of the squad, and of every poor soul they’d set out to free, were on the line. And Hazel wouldn’t want to be distracted any more than he did.

  The plan went perfectly, like all plans always did: right until first contact with the enemy. Petro was in the front line when the doors of the freight elevator opened. He fired twice, hitting both of the guards standing just a few yards away next to a young man in a wheelchair and a doctor—although ‘doctor’ was probably an overly generous term for someone who experimented on paras on behalf of the government.

  Three more silenced shots popped within a half second of his own, and the guards and doctor all collapsed, blood spreading on the linoleum floor. The kid in the wheelchair didn’t even flinch; he looked too drugged up to know what was going on.

  Petro didn’t like killing, but he had no issue doing so. It wasn’t like any of the guards here or the members of the Unit for Investigation of Paranormal Persons would hesitate to put a bullet in him if he ever gave them another opportunity. The first time, five years earlier, the bullet had hit his arm and shattered his bone. Dragons usually healed fast, but the drawback of being a shifter was that surgical pins or metal braces to help stabilize breaks were a no-no. The damage had been extensive enough that he’d been off active duty for six months. He’d worked on recruiting for the squad to keep busy during his recovery. That was when he’d met Hazel.

  With a slight shake of his head, Petro tried to chase away these memories that just wouldn’t stop running through his mind and focused on the matter at hand. As the squad started forward into the corridor, the alarm started blaring through the facility, the sound echoing against the concrete walls.

  Millie gave a few quick orders; she’d planned for every eventuality, as he well knew. Nothing ever fazed her. He tried hard to be like her, but it wasn’t all that easy when his heart insisted on doing somersaults inside his ribcage every time his gaze fell on Hazel.

  Dressed in black like they all were, with her long braids tucked into a head wrap that concealed the bottom half of her face, she only stood out because of her medium dark skin, but he’d have recognized her even if all he could have seen were her clear brown eyes. He never caught her looking his way and couldn’t help but wonder if she was too focused on the job to pay attention to him, or if she only looked in his direction when she was sure he
wouldn’t notice.

  “Talons.”

  By the sharpness of Millie’s voice when she said his codename, Petro realized she’d been trying to get his attention. He took the magnetic ID card she was handing him and nodded somewhat apologetically. Taken from one of the two guards they’d just killed, the front was splattered with blood. Petro wiped it with his thumb and moved with the rest of the squad toward the end of the corridor and the gates closing hallways on the left and right.

  Their inside man, a guard who’d seen the error of his ways when he’d found his tattoo mate—a para—showed them how to use the card to open the gates and the cell doors beyond. They divided themselves in three groups of three, one in each cell corridor to free prisoners and the last in the center hallway to keep guard.

  The prisoners quickly realized what was going on and hopeful faces appeared behind the bars. The woman in the first cell beamed at him even as he swiped the card in the electronic lock. Her red hair was dirty and tangled, a far cry from the perfect curls she always sported, even on missions. Leah had been taken while on leave from the squad, one of two of their members they knew to be here. Petro returned her smile.

  “It’s good to see you guys,” she said, stepping out of the cell and straight into Hazel’s open arms. Her voice wavered just a little when she added, “I knew you’d come.”

  Petro watched them for a second more before moving on. There’d be time for heartfelt reunions later, when they were out of here and safe. He should have reminded Hazel of that fact, but he just didn’t have the heart to do so.

  He was opening the second door when trouble spoke—or in this case, Violet. Through the headsets they all wore, he heard her talk about covering the exit staircase with Ryan, but there was absolutely no doubt in his mind that she intended to do more than that. Millie had decided that they might have to leave the prisoners from the lower, high-security level behind. Petro had argued the case in private, trying to convince her otherwise, but he knew his place in the hierarchy of the squad. Violet had not only disagreed with Millie in front of everyone just an hour earlier, she was now openly breaking orders. And she only had one person as back up.

  Damn it.

  Petro looked through the corridor; four more cells to open on this side, and then they’d start retreating. All right, then.

  “Leader, request permission to back up Fangs and Ladybird.”

  Rather than answering through the headset, Millie used her telepath abilities. She was at the other end of the corridor, with half a dozen people between them and the alarm still blaring overhead, but he still heard her as clearly in his mind as though they’d been alone in her office.

  Did you put them up to it?

  Her anger was unmistakable. He tried to hide his own irritation that she suspected him like this.

  Of course not. But they need back up. We’ve seen only two guards so far. Either they’re in the lower level or they’re above us, ready to come down through the staircase.

  They’d known as much from the start, which was why three people had been supposed to stand guard in front of said staircase while the operation was kept as short as possible. Violet’s ‘coup’ changed all that.

  Go, was all Millie said.

  The whole exchange had taken no more than a second—the advantage of mental communication. Petro turned to Hazel and Leah. He gave the security card to the first and his spare gun to the latter.

  “Free everyone. Get them to the elevator. Fill the first van and go.”

  Hazel’s mouth let out a crisp, “Yes, sir.” Her eyes on the other hand held that rebellious glint that had attracted him to her from the first day they’d met. He didn’t know what she was thinking, and he didn’t have time to ask now. All he could do was hope she wouldn’t do anything stupid.

  With his gun in hand, he hurried to the staircase, ducking low as he walked in and joined Ryan under the cover of a waist-high wall. A couple of shots came from the landing above, though neither came anywhere close to him. A familiar scent tickled his nose, and he swept his gaze over Ryan, quickly finding the bloody wound on his arm.

  “Just a scratch,” Ryan said. “I’m fine.”

  Petro huffed and disabled his microphone. He peeked over the wall and fired twice, striking the wall behind which the guards were hiding.

  “Ladybird’s idea?” he asked, though he was already sure he was right.

  Ryan made a noncommittal noise before turning off his mike as well.

  “Come on, man,” he said. “Don’t tell me you’d have left these people here.”

  He punctuated those words with a volley of bullets, meant more to keep the guards where they were than to hit anyone.

  “If it was necessary for the success of the entire mission—”

  Ryan shut him off with an incredulous look.

  Petro sighed and fired again. This time the guards fired back, though all they hit was concrete.

  “Of course I didn’t want to leave them here,” he grunted. “But I was waiting until I was done with my part of the mission before I asked Leader for permission. You know she’s gonna ground you and Ladybird.”

  Ryan shrugged—and grimaced when the movement pulled at his wound.

  “I’m going to get time off regardless. And it’d take more than the threat of being grounded to stop Ladybird.”

  Petro barked out a laugh at that; so true. Violet didn’t know the meaning of ‘give up.’

  Somewhere in the cells corridors, shots were fired. Petro’s entire body tensed, his mind immediately flashing to the worst case scenario: Hazel being hurt. Millie’s voice came over the headset, barking out a few orders. Petro relaxed ever so slightly when she didn’t mention anyone was wounded.

  After another exchange of gunfire with the guards above, Hazel’s voice slipped into his ear, causing his stomach to flip in its usual manner.

  “Talons, come in.”

  He hurriedly switched his microphone back on.

  “Go ahead, Chimera.”

  “All done here. Prisoners going up to vans. Do you need back up?”

  Was he imagining a note of worry in those last words, or was it really there? He wished he could have believed she still cared about him, but she’d ended things between them so abruptly and without giving him a reason… he didn’t know what to think.

  Before he could reply, Millie’s voice rose from the headset, and while she tried to sound neutral Petro knew her well enough to hear her exasperation.

  “Chimera, stand by. Ladybird, we’re done here. You have two minutes to join us or we’re leaving you behind.”

  Petro gritted his teeth. He glanced at Ryan, whose eyes had widened almost comically. What did they expect, really? That Millie would wag a finger at them and everything would be forgiven? They should have known better.

  “Ladybird here,” Violet said coolly. “Copy that. Almost done on the lower level. They held a little girl. Just a kid.”

  Their intel had not mentioned any child, but that didn’t mean anything. The UIPP had never had issues in ‘arresting’ children or elderly people under the pretext of ‘terrorist activities.’

  “Copy that, Ladybird,” Millie said, and her voice might have been just a shade warmer. “Retrieval teams, you are go as soon as van number one is full. Make sure you’re not followed or take the long way home if you are. London, find a way to wedge that staircase door open and go down to van number two, help Dreamer get it right against the elevator door. Alpha and Cerberus, make sure no one sneaks up on that van. Talons, Fangs, cover Ladybird and be ready to retreat on my command. Chimera, with me.”

  And with that, everyone knew what they had to do, and a new plan was in effect.

  It was only a minute or so later that steps resounded in the stairwell, coming up from the lower level. Violet appeared first, a gun in one hand while she supported a limping man with the other. A tall but thin man followed, a child cradled in his arms. As they reached the landing, Petro and Ryan started firing once more tow
ard the guards above them.

  A breathless voice in Petro’s ear, Dreamer, he thought, informed them all that some guards had tried coming down to the facility through the garage and been taken care of.

  “Ladybird, go!” Petro called out, but she and the men were already moving, keeping low to remain out of reach of bullets.

  In seconds, they were past the door. It wasn’t much longer before Millie gave the order of retreat.

  Petro let Ryan go first and followed right on his heels, kicking the door shut behind them. They ran down the corridor toward the freight elevator, where Millie on one side and Violet and Hazel on the other were keeping the door open while aiming their guns toward the stairwell Petro had just left.

  For the time of a blink, Petro met Hazel’s eyes as he ran toward her—and for the time of a blink, he forgot that it’d been two months, two days and now seven hours since she’d broken up with him. The fire in her eyes was the same as always, full of love, of lust, of possessiveness and tenderness…

  But only for the time of a blink.

  She broke eye contact with him and fired her gun, as did Millie and Violet. Whether they hit someone behind him and Ryan or whether those were only warning shots, Petro neither knew nor cared. They reached the elevator. The doors closed behind them. Petro, breathing hard, found himself staring at Hazel, who in turn stared at the metal doors as though nothing else existed. The silence as they slowly ascended toward the garage weighted on him, reminding him that it’d been far too long since he’d had a meaningful conversation with the woman he loved.

  At last the elevator door opened, revealing the back of the van. John stood inside, and gave a hand to each of them in turn to climb in. They all sat down. Millie gave the order to go.

  The mission was over.

  And yet Petro’s heart continued to pound hard, the beats as loud as cannons firing against his eardrums.

  He closed his eyes and tried to calm down. There were at least four shifters in the van with him, maybe more depending on what abilities the freed prisoners had, and all of them would hear his too fast heartbeat and wonder how scared he’d been.