Page 10 of Flint’s Fate (Silver Falls Shifters #3)

CHAPTER 9

JENNA

T he acrid scent of smoke wrenched Jenna from sleep. She sat bolt upright, heart slamming against her ribs, the darkness of her bedroom fractured by flickering orange light bleeding through the curtains.

Not possible.

Throwing back the covers, she grabbed the handgun from the nightstand and bolted to the window. Flames licked at the night sky, devouring the old barn. Panic surged, but she crushed it down. This wasn’t an accident.

Shoving her feet into her boots, she grabbed a jacket but didn’t bother with anything else. There wasn’t time.

Jenna sprinted through the farmhouse, skidding to a stop at the front door as she unlocked it with frantic fingers. Heat pulsed against her skin as she ran outside. A furious inferno engulfed the barn’s interior after someone threw open its doors. Sparks crackled, embers carried on the wind as the fire raged higher.

Damn it!

She took off toward the barn. If she could at least get the tractor out, maybe… a dark blur tackled her mid-stride. One second she was running, the next, she was airborne, knocked sideways into the dirt with enough force to steal her breath.

Flint.

His human form melted away in a swirling mist of thunder and color, his golden fur emerging as his lion took over in one smooth motion. Before she could shout, he circled her, his massive form braced between her and the fire, ears pinned, teeth bared.

The hell he was keeping her down.

Jenna shoved to her feet, her palms scraping against the gravel, heat from the flames clawing at her exposed skin. “What the hell, Mercer? The fire…”

Flint shifted back in a heartbeat, his human form reappearing as he grabbed her shoulders, forcing her gaze to his. “You do not run into a burning building, Jenna!”

She barely heard him over the roaring flames, barely felt him with adrenaline surging through her veins. “The tractor…”

“Is metal. It won’t burn like you will.” His grip tightened. “If you think I’ll stand by while you play hero, you don’t know me.”

She met his gaze, unflinching. “And if you think I’ll stand by while everything Maribel built goes up in flames, you don’t know me.”

The sound of sirens split the night. Flint dashed towards the house where he had left clothes and pulled them on. Returning to her, he stepped between her and the fire again as a fire truck roared up the dirt road, tires kicking up dust.

The rig barely had time to stop before firefighters jumped out, dragging hoses toward the blaze. A tall, broad-shouldered man in heavy gear stomped toward them, his helmet tucked under one arm.

“Shit, Jenna, are you okay?”

Jenna blinked. She knew that voice.

“Ridge?”

Ridge Lawson—former high school football star, now the head of Silver Falls’ mostly volunteer fire department. It had been years, but he still had the same rugged build, the same sharp blue eyes that missed nothing.

He gave her a once-over. “You look like you tried to run straight into it.”

She bristled. “Because I did.”

Flint let out a low sound of warning, but she ignored him.

Ridge’s gaze flicked to Flint. “You keeping her from getting herself killed?”

“Trying to,” Flint muttered.

Ridge exhaled hard. “Figured.” He turned, signaling his team. “We’ll contain it, but the barn’s going to be a total loss.”

Jenna’s stomach twisted, but she nodded, jaw tightening. There was no saving the structure now. But she needed to know how this started.

Ridge read her mind. “You think this was arson?”

Flint answered before she could. “No doubt.”

Ridge frowned, then gestured to the side of the barn, where the fire had burned hottest. “Then you’ll want to see this.”

Flint went first, but Jenna was right behind him.

Scorch marks were visible near the side entrance, but the fire did not start from inside the barn. A dark stain marked where someone had poured gasoline; its scent still lingered.

Jenna’s hands clenched into fists. “Someone set this.”

Ridge’s jaw ticked. “And they made sure you saw it.”

That was the part that burned more than the flames. This wasn’t just about destroying property. It was a message.

Flint’s gaze darkened. He turned to Ridge. “Anything on security cams?”

Ridge grimaced. “You think the town funds cameras on back roads? I’ve got a couple in town, but nothing out this far.”

Flint muttered a curse. Jenna understood the frustration. No cameras meant no immediate leads.

Ridge straightened. “I’ll file an official report, but you both know how this goes. Unless we catch someone red-handed, there’s not much we can do.”

Jenna’s nails dug into her palms. “So, I’m just supposed to wait for them to try again?”

Flint’s voice was dark steel. “No.”

She met his gaze, something unspoken passing between them.

Ridge watched them for a beat, then sighed. “Look, I’ll do what I can. But you might want to start sleeping with a shotgun closer to the bed.”

Jenna scoffed. “Already do.”

Flint didn’t laugh like Ridge did. He was too busy staring at the flames, his expression unreadable.

Ridge clapped him on the shoulder. “Good luck keeping her out of trouble.”

“I’d have better luck stopping the wind,” Flint muttered.

Ridge chuckled before moving back to his crew, shouting orders. The firefighters battled the remaining blaze, but Jenna barely registered it.

Flint was still watching the fire, his shoulders tense.

Jenna nudged him. “You gonna brood all night?”

His gaze snapped to her, eyes burning in the flickering light. “Someone tried to kill you tonight.”

“No,” she said patiently, as if speaking with a petulant child. “If they’d been trying to kill me, they would have set the farmhouse on fire, not the barn.” She put her hand on his forearm. “I’m fine, Flint.”

His jaw worked, something deeper raging behind his expression. Then, without warning, he reached out and cupped her face. The calloused warmth of his hands sent a jolt through her.

Flint leaned in, his voice a low, possessive growl. “I won’t let them take you from me, Jenna.”

Her pulse skipped. She should push him away. She didn’t. Not even when his thumb brushed over her cheekbone. Not when the heat between them built something too strong, too inevitable.

But before she could say something—before she could make a choice—Ridge called over his shoulder.

“Fire’s out.”

Something shattered the moment.

Flint pulled back, his gaze still locked on hers, unreadable but full of something dangerous. Jenna forced herself to breathe, shoving down the wildfire threatening to consume her. Whoever had done this had made a gigantic mistake.

Jenna stood outside the charred remains of the barn the following morning—her arms crossed, fighting the urge to snap at the uniformed figures milling around her property. The acrid scent of burned wood and soaked hay clung to the cool air, swirling in thick tendrils of smoke that hadn’t quite settled.

Anger consumed her. Not just at whoever had set fire to her barn, but at the fact that someone had burned her barn down. She could have been killed if it hadn’t been for Flint. The heat, the smoke—none of it had been accidental.

Sheriff Grey stood a few feet away, speaking in hushed tones with a couple of deputies. Tall and strong, he stood with his uniform shirt tucked into worn jeans. The only indication that he’d been up half the night was the dark smudges beneath his sharp eyes.

“You’re sure you didn’t see anyone?” Grey asked, flipping his notebook shut as he turned back toward Jenna.

Jenna shook her head, jaw tight. “Not a damn thing. I woke up, smelled the smoke, and by the time I got out there, the flames were already too high.”

Grey’s gaze flicked to the smoldering ruins, then back to her. “Whoever did this knew what they were doing. Someone set fire to multiple points inside and outside the barn. That kind of thing doesn’t happen by accident.”

Jenna barely resisted rolling her eyes. “Yeah, no shit.”

Flint, who had been standing a few feet away, his arms crossed like an immovable wall, let out a low growl of frustration. His jeans were still singed from his having come between Jenna and the blaze, and his bare chest was streaked with soot. He hadn’t left her side since stepping between her and the fire, and while she wanted to appreciate his presence, she was too damn angry.

Grey ignored Flint’s irritation and continued, “I’ll have my deputies comb through what’s left to see if we can’t find out anything else. I’m going to be straight with you, Jenna. If this was arson, someone who knows how to cover their tracks did it.”

Jenna forced herself to take a slow breath, clenching her hands at her sides to stop from pacing. “And what’s the plan while they’re out there covering them?”

Grey didn’t blink. “We keep an eye on things. Increase patrols near the orchard. But I need you to consider that this might not be just about the land anymore.”

Jenna’s brow furrowed. “What the hell else would it be about?”

Grey hesitated, just for a second, then sighed. “The people in this town loved Maribel. She also had enemies. Some old, some new. But you? You’re an outsider. And someone wants to make sure you know it.”

Jenna met Grey’s gaze, holding it steady. “Yeah, well. Message received. Too bad for them, I’m not leaving.”

Flint made a sound in the back of his throat that might have been approval, but Jenna didn’t look at him. She wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of knowing she was standing her ground.

Grey clicked his pen once before tucking it away. “If you think of anything else—anyone who might have a reason to go this far—call me.”

Jenna nodded, though she wasn’t hopeful. This had Calloway’s stink all over it, but she had no proof. And until she did, calling out the mayor or McVey for arson would just make her sound paranoid.

Grey turned toward Flint. “I assume you’re not going to let her stay here alone.”

Flint gave a slow, deliberate shake of his head. “No.”

“There’s really no need for you to stay.”

Flint shot her a look that brooked no argument. “Your barn just got torched. You think I’m letting you stay out here like bait?”

Jenna pressed together her lips in a stubborn line. “I think it isn’t your decision to make.”

Grey grinned as he took a step back. “I’ll leave you two to sort that out.”

Jenna watched the sheriff and his deputies move toward their vehicles, their presence leaving behind a silence that made her pulse tick higher. She turned back to Flint. “I can handle myself.”

Flint let out a slow breath, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “I know you can. Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t accept help.”

Something about the way he said it softened the edge of her temper. But only slightly.

Flint ran a hand through his hair before nodding toward the truck parked by the driveway. “You’re coming with me.”

Jenna narrowed her eyes. “Where?”

“My place. Above the cider mill. No one’s getting to you there.”

Jenna folded her arms. “And you think I’m just going to agree to that?”

Flint stepped into her space, towering over her, his eyes filled with frustration and something darker. “Yeah, Jenna. I do. Because for once in your life, you’re going to be smart and not make this harder than it has to be.”

Jenna glared up at him, her pulse pounding. “You’re an arrogant ass, you know that?”

Flint’s lips twitched. “And you’re the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met. Now get in the damn truck.”

Jenna should have fought him on principle. She should have stayed, just to prove that no one could scare her out of her own home. But as she glanced at the burned-out barn, the blackened remains of what had once been part of her family’s legacy, she knew Flint was right.

Whoever had done this wasn’t done with her., and if she wanted to fight back, she needed to be alive to do it.

With a huff, she grabbed a couple of things, shoving them into her bag, slung it over her shoulder, and stomped toward the truck. Flint’s eyes followed her the entire way, a quiet, satisfied rumble vibrating through his chest.

Jenna climbed into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut behind her. “Don’t get any ideas, Mercer. This is only temporary.”

Flint slid into the driver’s seat, a slow, satisfied grin curling his lips. “Whatever you say, Hartford.”

But they both knew better. Nothing between them had ever been temporary.

And this fight? It was just getting started.

The drive to Flint’s place was silent. The kind of silence that crackled with things unsaid.

Jenna sat with her arms crossed, her body still vibrating from adrenaline and fury, but also from something she’d rather not define. The heat of Flint’s presence filled the cab, thick and heavy, curling around her like wildfire.

She should be focused on the barn fire, on the fact that someone had just tried to burn her out of her own home. Instead, she was hyper-aware of the man sitting beside her—of the tension radiating off him, of the way his hands flexed around the steering wheel, controlled, restrained.

Like he was barely keeping himself in check.

When they pulled up to the old cider mill, she barely had time to take in her surroundings before Flint was out of the truck, slamming the door behind him.

Jenna followed, her steps sharp, her temper bubbling over.

“You think dragging me here is going to fix things?” she snapped.

Flint rounded on her so fast she nearly stumbled. His eyes burned as he stalked toward her, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “No,” he growled. “I think it’s going to keep you alive.”

Jenna clenched her jaw, refusing to back down even as he loomed over her. “I don’t need you protecting me, Mercer. I am not part of your clan, and you are not my alpha.”

Flint let out a sharp breath through his nose, then grabbed her wrist, pulling her flush against him. His body was scorching, his muscles taut, vibrating with barely leashed energy. Her breath caught as the full force of his presence hit her. His grip wasn’t tight, wasn’t painful. But it was absolute.

“No. You are my fated mate. You are mine to protect,” he said, voice rough, guttural. “You can fight me all you want, but that doesn’t change the truth.”

Jenna’s heart slammed against her ribs. Something inside her shuddered, resisting, but another part of her—the part that had been drawn to him from the moment she stepped back into Silver Falls—leaned in.

She felt it in the way her body recognized his. The way her she-cat prowled beneath her skin every time he was close, desperate for his touch, but surrendering to him meant something more than just accepting his help. It meant acknowledging the fire between them, acknowledging that what she wanted—what she needed—was him.

Her pulse thundered.

Flint’s gaze dropped to her mouth, his restraint thinning with every shallow breath. “Say it,” he rasped.

Jenna licked her lips, her voice coming out as something just shy of a challenge. “Make me.”

Flint snapped. In one fluid movement, he had her pinned against the side of the truck, his hands gripping her waist, his thigh pressing between hers. He crushed his mouth to hers, stealing her breath, devouring her like a man who had been starving for too damn long.

Jenna gasped, but she didn’t resist.

She kissed him back with just as much fire, just as much demand, tangling her fingers in his hair and yanking. Flint groaned against her lips, his hands tightening, pulling her flush against him until there was no space left between them.

“You’re playing with fire,” he muttered against her skin, dragging his lips down the column of her throat.

Jenna arched into him, her nails raking across his shoulders. “Good thing I don’t mind getting burned.”

Flint let out a low growl before lifting her, carrying her inside without breaking the kiss.

The moment they were in his space—a wide, loft-like room above the cider mill—he had her against the nearest surface, stripping her with ruthless efficiency. She didn’t even have time to be embarrassed before his hands were on her, mapping her skin, claiming her inch by inch.

Pressed against the wall, his lips moved against her collarbone, his teeth scraping just enough to send a shudder through her. “You’re mine,” he growled, his voice laced with something deeper than possession.

Jenna’s fingers curled into his shoulders, nails digging in as he pressed her harder against the wall. “Show me.”

Flint didn’t hesitate. He took her.

And Jenna? She let him.

She surrendered to the heat, to the storm between them, to the way he moved like he already knew her body, like he had been waiting for this moment his entire damn life.

Jenna barely had time to think before feeling two fingers plunging deep inside her with no preamble as his mouth left hers to suck one of her pebbled nipples into his mouth. Her breath hitched, a mix of shock and sheer delight crashing into her like a tidal wave. This invasion was different, more assertive, as if he was claiming her in ways she’d never dared allow herself to believe she wanted to be claimed.

“Flint…” The name came out as a half-moan, half-whisper, her body betraying any pretense of control as she pushed back against his fingers. He set a merciless pace, each thrust coaxing her inner muscles to tighten around him, drawing out sounds of pleasure she didn’t realize she could make.

“Like that, do you?” His voice was rough, laced with a satisfaction that only fueled her need.

Unable to speak, Jenna nodded, riding the waves of bliss he offered with nothing more than his skilled hands.

“Good girl,” he praised.

She felt her ego swell with pride, knowing he was enjoying this as much as she was. His fingers curled within her, hitting spots that had her vision blurring, her legs threatening to give out.

“Stay with me, Jenna,” he coaxed, his other hand leaving a blazing trail up her spine. His body heat enveloping her as he leaned into her trembling form, whispering the command like a secret meant only for the two of them.

In that moment, there was no danger, no runes, no one trying to take what was hers, no world outside this room, just Flint and the promise of oblivion in his touch.

The moment his fingers plunged into her, her world was reduced to the sheer force of his touch. He didn’t hold back, each thrust hard and fast, a punishing rhythm that should’ve scared her, but it didn’t. Her body rose up to meet him, hips instinctively pushing back against his hand, seeking more.

“Flint!” she cried out, the sound torn from her throat as an unexpected orgasm shattered through her body. The intensity of it rocked her to her core. She knew in that moment that she was his, body and soul, in ways she could never have imagined.

Her breath came in ragged gasps as she drifted back to reality, the aftershocks of pleasure still coursing through her veins. And then she felt him, Flint, the man who had haunted her dreams since the day she’d arrived in Silver Falls. He lifted her up and in one swift move was inside her, filling her so completely she could scarcely breathe.

“Ah, fuck,” she gasped, feeling stretched and consumed by his size. His fingers found her clit, circling with a practiced ease that had her spiraling towards another peak despite her sensitivity.

“You’re such a good mate.” Flint’s voice was gruff, each word punctuated by a deep thrust that left her barely clinging to sanity.

She nodded frantically in agreement, caught up in the dual sensations of his cock driving into her and his fingers coaxing her body to respond.

The depth of Flint’s thrusts altered suddenly, urging a guttural moan from deep within her. But he wasn’t satisfied. It wasn’t deep enough for him, or for the hunger in his eyes. With a firm grip on her thighs, he hoisted her up onto the table just inside the front door, pulling her ass to the edge and holding her in a place that was both exhilarating and demanding.

Jenna knew this was her reality now, yield to his every command, to mold herself to his desires. The thought alone sent a twisted thrill down her spine. God help her, she loved it, the power he wielded, the control she surrendered. It was a dance of shadows and need, and she had become his willing partner.

“Flint…deeper,” she panted, almost unable to form words as he complied, driving into her with a force that bordered on pain.

“Like this?” His voice was a rumble of dark promise, and then he sank into her, one powerful thrust that pushed the edge of discomfort into a realm of raw pleasure. She felt the texture of his cock change, becoming covered in small nubs that increased the pleasure beyond measure. But as he drew back, the nubs distended into barbs that scored her pussy.

“Fuck. Yes!” she cried out, the sensation teetering on unbearable. Her body stretched to accommodate him, each inch of his thick length sending lightning strikes of delight through her pussy.

“Look at you, taking it all,” he praised, and she couldn’t hold back the scream that clawed its way up her throat.

Pleasure consumed her, a tidal wave crashing over the banks of her restraint. Jenna called out his name, a mantra, a plea, a declaration, as her world narrowed to the pulsing ecstasy he forged within her.

“God, Flint!” Gasping, groaning, she clung to the precipice, her breath hitching in erratic bursts. The intensity built, spiraling out of control until she was lost in the cataclysm, convulsing around him as if her body sought to draw him deeper still.

He held her there, impaled on paradise and pain, his groans mingling with her cries, a symphony of primal satisfaction. And as the crescendo hit, stealing her breath, robbing her of thought, she knew she had found her possible ruin and salvation in the arms of someone she could never have imagined back in New York.

His hands, rough yet somehow tender, slid over the curve of her hip, grounding her to the here and now, a place where she’d never thought she’d find herself. Flint’s groans vibrated through her, a deep, guttural sound that resonated with her own need.

“I’m coming, Jenna.” His voice was strained with pleasure, his breath hot against her skin. “I’m going to fill you up. God, you feel so fucking good.”

The words were crude, but they lit a fire within her, stoking the embers into a blaze. It was raw, it was primal, and it was exactly what this moment was about. Stripped of pretenses, of feuds, just two people lost in a physical conversation where bodies spoke louder than words ever could.

As he thrust into her, her inner walls shook and quivered as she tried to wrap her head around the intense pleasure she was experiencing as another orgasm approached faster than she could comprehend.

As he continued to pound into her, she suddenly fell over the edge and screamed in ecstasy, her pussy spasming as she clamped down hard, her legs trembling as she writhed in his hold, greedily milking his cock, savoring every bit of pleasure as he held her in his arms.

He stood there between her legs, panting, and then scooped her up and carried her through the main room into the bedroom. By the time they collapsed onto the bed, sweat-slicked and breathless, Jenna’s body still hummed with satisfaction, with something deeper, something primal that she wasn’t ready to put a name to.

Flint’s arm was draped over her waist, his fingers idly tracing patterns along her hip. It was intimate in a way that made her feel too exposed, too seen.

She needed to move. To break the moment before it became something more. Jenna sat up, reaching for the blanket—then froze. Her breath hitched as she saw the marks on his back. Deep, jagged scratches—fresh enough that they hadn’t fully healed yet.

And they weren’t from her.

Flint stilled, sensing her shift in energy. “Jenna?”

She ran a finger lightly over one of the marks, her voice tight. “Where did you get these?”

Flint sighed, rolling onto his back, his eyes darker than before. “It doesn’t matter.”

Jenna’s gaze snapped to his. “The hell it doesn’t.”

Flint let out a long breath, his jaw tightening. “I ran into someone the other night. Another shifter. Not from Silver Falls.”

Jenna’s stomach turned. “Was it the same one from before?”

Flint’s silence told her everything she needed to know.

Jenna’s fingers clenched around the edge of the blanket. “They’re hunting this land.”

Flint nodded slowly. “And they’re not done.”

Jenna swallowed hard, forcing herself to breathe through the sharp stab of unease twisting in her gut.

She had known this wasn’t over. That whoever wanted this land—whoever had killed Maribel—wasn’t finished. But this? This proved they were getting bolder.

Jenna met Flint’s gaze, her voice steady. “Then we fight.”

Flint’s lips twitched, his eyes gleaming with something dark, something deadly. “Damn right we do.”

Jenna exhaled slowly, already knowing that whatever was coming next—it wouldn’t just be a battle for the orchard. It would be a war.