Page 12 of Fated to the Lone Shifter
"Didn’t know we had a fire witch on the squad. Would a thought you could a lit that match with that dance." he teases.
Nicole flushes, but gives it right back. "Careful. Unless you want me to turn you into a toad."
He offers her a mock bow.
She’s still blushing when he asks her if he'd turn into a prince if the beautiful princess kissed him.
I catch the exchange from across the yard and shake my head from side to side. Marcus, my most trusted friend and the biggest male chauvinist pig I know. If there’s an attractive woman around, he’s all over it. And Nicole is definitely cute.
Rivas, of course, is holding court near the grill, telling some wild story about how he once escaped a structure collapse using nothing but a wet towel and bad intentions. He's got the makings of a mini-Marcus. It’s mostly bullshit, but he’s got the others laughing. Even Sera chuckles, perched on the cooler beside Jamie, sipping from a bottle of water like she’s been here for years.
Jamie leans in to Sera and says something that makes her laugh—a quick, genuine burst of sound I haven’t heard from her yet. Whatever the rookie said, Sera claps her on the shoulder, and Jamie practically glows under the attention.
Then Taylor sits down next to them, awkward and sweaty, holding a burger like he’s unsure how to eat it. "You ever try peanut butter on one of these?" he asks.
Sera raises a brow. "That’s either genius or horrifying."
He grins. "You won’t know until you try it. Changed my life."
"I’ll take your word for it," she says, holding up her hands in surrender. Jamie giggles, and even Nicole glances over from where Marcus is now twirling a very unimpressive baton without fire.
I watch Sera navigate the group like she’s done it a hundred times—easy smiles, measured responses, never too open but never quite aloof. She’s good at this. Too good. Like someone trained to blend without giving anything away.
She catches me watching.
"What?" she mouths silently across the lawn, motioning me to join them.
I give her a small shake of my head. Nothing. Everything.
She cocks her head, eyes narrowing like she’s trying to figure me out. Then she pushes off the cooler, dusts her hands on her jeans, and walks toward me.
Shit.
"Didn’t peg you for a lurker," she says, stopping a few feet away.
"Didn’t peg you for a firehouse social butterfly."
She shrugs, lips quirking. "I’m full of surprises."
I look down at my plate, then back at her. "You settling in alright?"
She nods. "Better than expected. Jamie’s got a wicked sense of humor. Rivas is... loud. Taylor’s convinced peanut butter is a lifestyle. And Nicole—she’s kind of a badass."
"You’re not wrong."
We stand in silence for a beat too long. The air between us charged, but not uncomfortable.
"This feels like a trap," she murmurs, glancing around. "Everyone happy, burgers grilling, music playing... it’s too peaceful."
"It is," I agree. "But we take the good nights where we can."
Greene steps to the middle of the group and makes a toast—simple, gruff, heartfelt. "To those who run toward the fire, not away from it. And to the bonds that’ll keep us alive when it gets bad."
The clink of bottles and cups follows, and for one brief moment, the air feels lighter.
Sera catches my gaze. There’s a flicker in her eyes—not a warning, not a threat. An invitation.
God help me, I want to answer it.
