Page 12 of Roaring Heat (Shifters of Redwood Rise #2)

BEAU

T he memory of her trembling against me lingers longer than it should.

It hits me harder than I expect, stirring more than just physical want.

There’s a sense of vulnerability in that moment that sinks deeper into my chest than I’m ready to admit.

Her trust, her need, the way she looked at me like I was both danger and shelter—it throws me off balance.

I tell myself to forget it, to focus on the lines and not the woman complicating everything, but that lie doesn’t hold for long.

Her softness pressed to mine, the way her breath hitched against my mouth.

It burns itself into me like a live wire.

My chest tightens, not just with want, but with something deeper and far more dangerous.

I try to shake it off, but the image clings to me, vivid and raw.

My body remembers too easily, and my instincts keep dragging me back to her.

The pull isn’t just physical. It’s primal.

Unavoidable. And it terrifies me how much I don’t want to fight it.

I walk away because I have to, not because I want to.

Leaving her standing there, lips swollen and eyes wide, damn near tears me in half.

By the time I reach my truck, my hands still shake with the effort it takes to hold myself back.

I can taste her, feel the heat of her pressed against me, and I know I’ve made everything between us even more complicated.

But complications don’t matter right now.

Not with the ley lines surging like they did last night.

Not with the land itself restless beneath our feet.

Sawyer meets me near the southern ridge before noon, the forest dense and quiet around us, the kind of quiet that buzzes in your ears.

The air feels thick, charged, like the seconds before a thunderstorm breaks, though the sky above is clear.

The underbrush crackles beneath our boots, dry and brittle despite the shade.

There's an edge to the air that prickles across the back of my neck, not quite fear, but something near it. My body reads it before my mind catches up—something is off. Wrong.His pack is slung across one broad shoulder, the usual frown carved deep between his brows, and he doesn’t waste time on greetings.

“You felt it too.”

“Yeah.” I crouch low, brush the ground with my palm, and wait for the hum to rise through my bones. It creeps in slow, then strikes like a wrong note plucked on taut piano wire.

My breath catches. This isn’t the steady, familiar cadence of ley energy. It’s jagged, like the land is thrumming in panic beneath my hand. The sensation skitters up my spine, sharp and discordant, vibrating with a tension that doesn't belong. My jaw tightens.

This isn’t just wrong—it’s dangerous. It doesn’t take long. The vibration is faint but wrong, like a heartbeat out of rhythm. “It wasn’t just another fluctuation. It was stronger. Wilder.”

He exhales hard. “The animals are restless. I saw a blacktail buck cross right through the schoolyard this morning. Didn’t even flinch when the bell rang.”

“You're right; that’s not natural,” I say, nodding.

“No,” he agrees. “Not even close.”

We head deeper along the ridge, checking grounding stones as we go.

The first marker is cracked clean through, its quartz veins splintered like broken ice.

I kneel, tracing the jagged edge with my thumb.

Sawyer crouches beside me, eyes narrowing.

"I've never seen one break this clean. Not even during that freak storm ten years ago. "

"It's not just weather." I glance at him. "You felt the spike, same as I did. This isn't a pattern we've seen before."

He nods slowly, jaw tight. "If the grounding stones are cracking, the lines aren't just unstable. They're lashing out. That's new. That's bad."

I press my hand flat to the earth, feeling for another pulse.

"And it means we’re running out of time to figure out why.

" The quartz veins splintered like glass, fractured in a way that looks unnatural even to my seasoned eye.

I kneel and trace the break with my thumb, my jaw tight, heart ticking faster.

The cold stone under my skin buzzes faintly, a warning humming straight through my bones.

“These should hold for decades. That was no normal surge.”

Sawyer crouches beside me. “You thinking it’s the same as before?”

The words drag me back like a sucker punch to the gut.

That day is burned into my bones. I’d been young, overconfident, and too damn sure of myself.

I'd stepped into the ring of ground stones and thought I had the lines all figured out better than anyone in Redwood Rise.

Then the surge had hit without warning, a violent explosion of raw energy that tore through the grounding stone and slammed straight into me.

I remember the scream that had ripped from my throat, how it had felt like lightning was trying to claw its way out through my skin.

Familiar voices had shouted around me. Sawyer's rough bark and our dad’s deep command had cut through the chaos, their voices strained and nearly lost beneath the deafening roar of the energy. It had swallowed everything, fracturing the world around me.

White-hot pain had lanced through my body, bones vibrating like they might shake apart, blood thundering in my ears.

Hands had grabbed at me, dragging me out from the ring of grounding stones where I’d collapsed, my body still convulsing from the violent surge.

Their palms had burned from the backlash of raw ley energy, but they hadn’t let go.

I'd felt the drag of the forest floor beneath me, roots and damp soil catching on my limbs, broken twigs scraping my skin as I was hauled to relative safety.

My limbs had been numb, nerves still twitching with residual energy, and the chaos around me had pulsed with the frantic urgency of those trying to pull me free. I couldn’t speak for hours afterward, couldn’t think straight for days.

Even now, I can feel the echo of it in my chest. The same erratic tremble in the ley current. The same pulse that doesn’t belong. Only this time, it’s stronger. Hungrier.

“Feels the same,” I admit, voice rough. “But bigger. Stronger.”

We move to the next site. This one isn’t broken, but the stones hum sharp under my hand, like static before a lightning strike.

Sawyer sets a fresh marker, muttering under his breath, and I brace it with iron pins.

The air feels charged, pressing against my skin like the weight of a storm.

My shoulders stiffen, a tight coil winding at the base of my spine.

Every nerve feels wired too close to the surface, like I'm waiting for a blow I can’t see coming.

My pulse ticks faster, steady but high, and a bead of sweat slides down the back of my neck despite the cool air.

Sawyer glances at me. “You ever wonder why it’s starting again now?”

“Every damn day.” I straighten, scanning the treeline. “Something’s stirring the lines awake. They don’t just flare up like this without a trigger.”

The truth I don’t voice sits hot on my tongue. If I say it out loud, it becomes real. And if it’s real, then so is the danger she’s in.

What if the lines aren’t just reacting to her, but feeding off her?

What if they’re pulling her into something she can’t understand, something I can’t protect her from?

My gut knots at the thought, and I rub a hand over my jaw, trying to scrub the image from my mind.

Anabeth has no idea what she’s walking into.

Hell, I don’t even know what it means. But the land feels it.

I feel it. And that connection might cost her more than she’s ready to give.

Worse, it might cost me everything if I can’t keep her safe.

I felt it when she touched the stones. The pulse that arced through the ground wasn’t wild or aimless. It was recognition. The land was reacting to her, not me. Not Sawyer. Her.

We hike toward the creek where the energy runs the strongest. The forest closes in around us, dense with shadows and the hush of held breath.

Ferns brush our legs, damp from an unseen spring, and moss-laden branches hang low overhead.

Each step feels weighted, like the air itself thickens the deeper we go.

Twigs snap underfoot, brittle as bones, and the chirp of birds fades into an eerie quiet.

My boots scuff rock, then soil, then damp leaf mold as the path narrows into a deer trail more than a footpath.

The tension in my shoulders coils tighter with every yard we gain. I can feel Sawyer beside me, steady but alert, and the silence between us says more than words. We’re not just walking into the woods. We’re stepping into whatever the land wants to show us.

And I don’t know if I’m ready for what we’ll find.

The water cuts a jagged path through the woods, loud enough to drown out smaller sounds, yet my attention locks onto the sharp crack of branches breaking deeper in the undergrowth.

Three deer step into view, their eyes glassy, movements too smooth, too deliberate.

They don’t bolt when they see us. They don’t even twitch.

Their eyes fix on us, unblinking, with a strange glint that feels too aware.

Breath clouds in front of their noses in shallow, synchronized puffs.

The silence stretches, strained and unnatural, as if even the trees are waiting for something to snap.

My pulse pounds louder than the creek, a drumbeat against the quiet.

It’s not fear in their eyes. It’s something older.

Something watching us from behind them. They just stand there, staring like they’ve been pulled here by a tether we can’t see.

Sawyer stiffens. “That’s not right.”

“No,” I murmur, hand brushing the hilt of the blade at my hip. “It’s not.”

The current under the ground surges again, sudden and sharp. It hums up through my boots, rattles my bones, makes the deer shiver in unison. Then they break, scattering back into the trees, as if released from an invisible grip.

Sawyer swears low. “What the hell is going on?”

I don’t answer right away. My breath catches, and a storm of emotions crashes through me.

Protectiveness sharp as a blade slices through my chest, fear gnaws at my gut, and a stunned awe lingers, impossible to shake.

I want to deny it, pretend she’s just a woman who stumbled into something she doesn’t understand. But the land doesn’t lie.

The pulse in the ground, the animals' eyes, the sharp thrum of the lines all converge on one source: her. I stare into the woods, jaw tight, and feel the weight of something ancient turning toward us. Toward her. And I know. Or at least, I’m starting to.

The lines are unstable, yes, but they’re not just lashing out at random.

They’re responding to Anabeth. The timing is too exact.

The surge last night. The recorder spike.

The way the stones pulsed under her touch like they’d been waiting for it.

We set the last marker and stand in silence, listening to the woods hold its breath. My skin prickles with awareness, the memory of her mouth on mine still hot, tangled with the undeniable truth settling in my chest.

She isn’t just here by chance. The thought claws at me, stirring a mix of fear and fierce protectiveness.

What if her presence is the reason the ley lines are restless?

What if they are pulling her into something that could break her?

My gut twists at the idea, torn between wanting to shield her from it and knowing I might not be able to.

The awe of it lingers too, an unsettling recognition that she belongs to this land in a way I don’t yet understand.

She’s a catalyst. The land knows her, calls to her like it’s been waiting.

My pulse slows, even as everything inside me kicks harder, bracing for what that means.

If she’s the spark lighting up the ley lines, then every unstable pulse, each fracture in the grounding stones, and all the eerie stares from the animals trace straight back to her.

That thought chills me, not because I blame her, but because it changes everything.

I can’t treat her like she’s just another newcomer in town.

She’s woven into the rhythm of this place in a way even I don’t fully understand.

And if the land is waking up because of her, I need to figure out why before something ancient, something darker than either of us can name, answers the call first. And the ley lines know it.

Which means everything is about to change.