Page 19 of Roaring Heat (Shifters of Redwood Rise #2)

ANABETH

I shouldn’t be out here. Not after what the ley lines did to the ground—and to me.

Still, the moment I open the cottage door, the air shifts.

That pull is subtle but relentless, tugging at my chest with the same eerie hum I’ve charted on every surge report since I arrived.

The same beat that makes my heart stumble, sudden and jarring, like a skipped breath I can’t explain.

I follow it, drawn like a needle to magnetic north, my recorder clutched tight in one hand.

The red light blinks steadily in the mist, catching each snap of twig, each low groan of shifting earth.

It isn’t just about data anymore; the recorder has become my anchor, something solid in the middle of forces I don’t understand.

My thumb strokes the worn edge of the plastic casing the way I might trace the curve of a pulse beneath skin, grounding myself with touch as much as sound.

I whisper into the mic, half scientist, half something more vulnerable. “Document everything,” I murmur, my voice low, shaky but steady enough to mark the record. “Whatever this is, it’s happening now.”

The words feel intimate, like a confession whispered into velvet shadows.

The forest listens, or maybe it’s only my own breath catching on the quiet, the stillness wrapping around me like a held touch.

I strain to hear something more—a hush, a heartbeat, anything that feels like it understands I’m here.

The trailhead looms before me, but I’m not alone. Beau and his brothers, Eli and Sawyer, are already there, tension radiating from their stances as they pace the edge of the trail and scan the ground with keen, practiced eyes. As I step onto the trail, Beau turns.

He doesn’t say anything. He just stares, eyes wide with shock and something else, maybe worry or frustration, mixed with a heat that flickers in the depths of his gaze.

A look that grabs me low and tight, making my breath catch and my skin flush.

It’s not just concern. It’s possession. Hunger. But he doesn’t stop me.

The moment I step into the clearing, the energy clamps down like a vise.

It presses against my skin, hot and fevered, threading along my spine like liquid static.

The hum isn’t sound; it’s a presence, a heavy, bone-deep tremor that vibrates through my ribs and teeth.

I see faint tendrils of a shimmer curling above the ground, like heat haze from asphalt, only denser, more deliberate.

The same pulse I’ve felt before now howls through me, no longer subtle but primal and consuming.

Beau waits as I catch up, his jaw locked and shoulders tense.

His brothers are already advancing toward the glowing fracture, their flashlights cutting through the haze like restless fireflies.

I follow, but each step grows heavier, as if the air thickens with resistance.

The forest seems to close around me, branches leaning in, ground rising uneven beneath my boots.

It’s not just a test. It feels like a dare, issued by the woods themselves, daring me to keep moving forward and cross a line I may never return from.

The fissure is worse than I imagined. Jagged ribbons of molten gold twist and coil through fractures in the earth, laced with streaks of violet that pulse like trapped lightning.

The ground around it is cracked in brutal, spiraling patterns, each one seared into stone as if scorched by divine fire.

Heat warps the air above it, not just shimmering but folding, like reality itself is bending to accommodate something that shouldn't exist.

The colors bleed together, pulsing in time with a low vibration that crawls up through my boots, through my spine, and wraps around my ribs like a breath held too long. I crouch low, every instinct screaming that I’ve stepped into the center of something sentient and ancient, and it’s looking back.

Pale light bleeds from the cracked earth, luminous veins running through the exposed stone like a heartbeat made visible.

The heat rises from the exposed stone in dense waves, shimmering like liquid glass.

Metallic glints catch the flashlight beams, and the air feels charged, like it's waiting to strike.

Sawyer kneels near the edge, muttering to Eli, but both of them look up as I approach.

"No closer," Beau snaps, grabbing my elbow.

I try to shake him off. "I need to see it."

He holds firm. "You're not touching it."

"Don't be daft. I wasn't planning on licking it, Beau."

"Not funny."

No, it really isn't. Not with the land split open and glowing like a living thing, veins of light pulsing in rhythm with something I can’t define.

Not when every pattern I’ve studied fractures beneath one undeniable truth.

I’m the only part that doesn’t belong, the only element that refuses to make sense.

The only one the land seems to recognize.

Beau relents a fraction, his fingers loosening just enough to allow me to ease into a crouch a few feet away.

The air shimmers above the fissure, distorted and alive, as though heat itself has grown sentient.

I brace against the charged tension, grounding my boots into the moss-slick stone, then reach for the data recorder clipped to my jacket, fingers steady despite the tremble under my skin.

Sawyer watches me, arms folded. "That recorder won't explain what's happening here."

"Probably not. But it'll help me remember everything that happens and what not to do next time."

Beau stays silent, eyes locked on me like I’m the danger, not the rupture.

That look claws through my ribs and drags heat up my spine.

It's not just fear, though that spikes sudden and cold, but something tangled with it. Something darker. The way his gaze pins me, like he’s trying to decide if he needs to guard me or claim me, makes my skin prickle and my pulse kick. I should hate it. I don't.

I hold the device near the edge, watching as the screen flickers. Static. Useless. The electromagnetic interference is off the charts. The ley lines aren’t just destabilized. It's as if they are furious.

"Something's coming," Eli murmurs. He stares into the woods, back rigid.

"No," I say, before I can stop myself. "I don't think it's coming. I think it's already here."

All three brothers turn to me. I square my shoulders, holding my ground despite the weight of their attention.

Their combined stares feel like a test I refuse to fail, even with the pressure prickling up my spine.

I lift my chin, locking eyes with Beau. I won’t be intimidated. Not by this, and not by them.

"The lines aren’t reacting to something on its way. They’re reacting to me. They started flaring the day I arrived. The same day Beau found claw marks near Elsie's place."

"You think you're causing this?" Sawyer asks.

I glance at Beau. He’s too still.

"“Not causing. Triggering. There’s a difference. Something buried or dormant or bound. I’m a catalyst, not the source,” I say, voice low but steady.

The ground shudders beneath us, a sudden, lurching upheaval that throws my balance for half a breath. It's more thana tremor. It's more like a hard thump; like an underground heartbeat.

"Back off," Beau growls.

I rise, but the moment I straighten, the fissure pulses with violent intent.

A burst of blinding light shoots upward, flaring so bright it whites out my vision.

The air thickens, twisting in on itself, and then a wall of force erupts from the crack, a wave of heat and pressure so brutal it slams into my chest like a battering ram, driving the breath from my lungs and knocking me backward.

Time fractures. The world pauses, the silence so total it screams in my ears.

The air thickens, dense and hot like a furnace just before it roars to life.

A flicker of white-hot light cracks across my vision, jagged as lightning cleaving sky from ground.

Then it hits—raw, blazing force that barrels into me like a freight train wreathed in flame.

My body jerks upward, limbs seizing in midair, muscles locked and screaming without sound.

Pain blooms behind my eyes, electric and relentless.

I am weightless and burning, flung like a rag doll into a storm I can't see.

I’m thrown back with such force that the sky flips over me, the world careening sideways.

My spine hits the ground hard, jarring every vertebra and knocking the air from my lungs.

I gasp, but no breath comes. My limbs refuse to move, frozen by the aftershock.

Vision narrows to a single flickering point, like the last star blinking out in a collapsing sky.

Then Beau’s voice cuts through the ringing in my ears. Loud. Rough.

"Anabeth. Dammit. Stay with me."

His hands cradle my face, palms rough but steady, the calluses dragging gently against my skin.

His thumbs sweep across my cheekbones with a firm tenderness that steals my breath.

The warmth of his touch sinks beneath the surface, rooting me in the moment, in him.

It anchors me more surely than the ground beneath my back, tethering me to consciousness, to safety, to something fierce and unspoken between us.

"I’m here," I whisper.

"You shouldn't be. You shouldn't have gotten that close."

I blink, and realize he's glaring down at me, furious and tight-jawed, every line in his face etched with barely restrained emotion.

"It hit me," I murmur.

"No shit."

"It knew I was here. It aimed."