Bound In Fire: Phoenix Shifter Paranormal

by Erzabet Bishop

“That was before I got a no from our little arsonist over here.” There. Take that, Firestarter.

  Grant let out a groan. “Dude, come on.”

  Isobel considered him, her cheeks filling with color. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”

  “You had your chance.”

  “You…” she sputtered, her jaw falling open in irritated shock.

  Oh no. He wasn’t about to make it easy.

  “A girl has to make her own decisions. You want a date…you can ask me.” He sauntered down the hallway, feeling three sets of eyes drilling into his back and couldn’t resist smiling.

  She would come and find him. He’d made sure of that. Digging her copy of Hamilton’s Mythology out from beneath his arm, he whistled as he made his way to class. Things were going to work out. He just had to wait.

  And they had. Months later, Grant was onto his next conquest but Roark and Isobel had only just gotten started. If everyone would just get out of the damned way.

  He eased the truck to a stop in front of the small cabin, the tires crunching on the gravel drive. He got out, the echo of the slamming door shattering the silent night. The woods beyond beckoned him and his cat prowled beneath his skin, anxious.

  Something wasn’t right.

  Isobel?” Roark called out, his voice echoing. A blur of movement caught his eye and he turned.

  She was a shot out of the darkness, a blur of red hair and blue jeans. In a flurry of arms and legs, she launched herself against him.

  Roark grunted as he caught her, running his hands over her to make sure she was all right.

  “You came.”

  Her face was hot and wet. He held her close, her sweet scent wrapping around him like smoke. Then she sniffled.

  Shit.

  She had been crying.

  He’d fucking kill whoever it was.

  “What’s wrong?” Roark drew back and narrowed his eyes. Her face was mottled and red, the glistening trail of tears on her cheeks.

  Her voice thick, she wiped at the tears angrily. “I hate them.”

  “Tell me.” Roark wrapped his arms around her, tucking her head underneath his chin. That was when he felt the books in her hand. She always picked up one of her books when she was upset.

  Tonight she had two. Bulfinch’s Mythology and Grimm’s Fairy Tales.

  Isobel sucked in a shuddering breath and buried her face against his chest. A gust of wind rustled through the trees and he lifted his nose but found no other presence save for animals in the brush.

  “Izzy.” He put a finger under her chin, forcing her to look at him.

  “I’m being sent away.”

  The first thing that crept into his mind was the fire. Had she done something? Hurt someone? An icy dread snaked through Roark’s stomach and his animal twitched under his skin, but for her sake, he forced himself to remain calm.

  “Go on.”

  Isobel pulled away and rubbed her hands over her the sleeves of her sweater. “It’s no secret my parents don’t like that we’re dating.”

  That was the understatement of the year if he’d ever heard one.

  “No.” Roark snorted. He found himself thinking of the colorful phoenix tattoo that now held court on her upper arm. The one, coincidentally, that matched his own. She’d told him she liked the symbolism. A new start. Like the one they’d talked about when they got out of this shit hole of a town.

  It was also her answer to his moment of weakness when his teeth had pierced her flesh during one of their secret assignations in the old cabin just up the road. He hadn’t meant to mark her, not yet, but he'd lost control of his beast, accidentally laying claim to his mate much sooner than he had intended. The tattoo had been the perfect camouflage, the bird’s colorful plumage working in the bite marks so if you didn’t know they were there, it was impossible to make out.

  Only his nose told him the truth. Her scent had changed, albeit subtly, as his mate. His pack members would be able to tell, so they kept everything as close to the vest as possible.

  She glanced toward the darkness of the woods beyond, her expression stony. “Mom told me they knew we had been meeting. That she and Dad hadn’t raised me to date outside the coven.”

  “That’s bullshit.”

  Isobel gave him a look. “They saw the tattoo. My mother was pissed.”

  “Ouch. At least they couldn’t tell about the bite.”

  Unconsciously, her hand trailed up to her upper arm, rubbing the tat through her clothes. “I tried to tell her this isn’t a passing thing. That you’re the one.”

  He could just see Dayanara Fieri’s pinched expression after that delightful conversation.

  “I bet she didn’t like that.”

  “No. As a matter of fact she didn’t. Neither did my father.”

  The knot that had taken residence in his gut twisted. He didn’t really care if they liked him, but if they made it hard on Izzy, that he did care about.

  “Izzy…” He reached out to tug her back into his arms but she held out her hand.

  “There’s more.”

  “Do I want to know?” Roark ran a hand through his hair, afraid of what she was going to say next. Losing her was not an option. Not for him.

  “Apparently there’s been an arranged marriage with someone in Jonastown involved in coven affairs. And as soon as I graduate, I’m to take my place and follow through with their agreement.”

  Agreement?

  What agreement?

  God. She was still in high school.

  “Izzy. You know that sounds insane, right? You should be able to choose who you want to be with.”

  She barked out a laugh, fire dancing in her eyes. It was a bitter sound that cut him to the quick. “You don’t know the coven.” As she spoke, she cocked her head. “You were late tonight. Why?”

  “That asshole uncle of yours held me after. Accused me of an incorrect inventory.”

  Isobel shook her head, her fiery strands of hair cascading around her shoulders. “It was to delay you.”

  Shit. He already knew that. The question was, why?

  “When did you get here?”

  “A few minutes before you. I had to sneak out of the house. The parentals were arguing. They didn’t even check the wards.”

  “That doesn’t sound right.”

  She nodded. “I know.”

  “Where’s your car?”

  “I walked the trail. I didn’t want to take a chance they’d spelled it.” She moved away from him, lifting her face to the moon.

  “Izzy…” He growled. She knew it wasn’t safe. Not for a female alone. Firestarter witch or not.

  “We have to leave.”

  “What?”

  She lifted her face toward his, the ghostly light of the moon on her pale cheeks making her eyes appear luminous. She curled her fingers in his shirt and dragged his mouth down to hers. The sweet cinnamon taste of her lips brought their time together last Friday night to the forefront of his mind.

  “Firestarter,” he sighed into her hair. What once had been a terrible nickname had become his term of endearment for her.

  Roark’s jeans grew uncomfortably tight and as she molded her body against his, he let out a groan. But then he heard it, a car moving up the gravel road. He broke the kiss, struggling to shake the fog of wanting her that had taken over his body.

  He had to remain in control. For both their sakes.

  “Izzy, someone’s coming.”

  “I hear them.” Her voice was cold. “Sounds like Rory’s old sedan. I knew it wouldn’t be long before they followed me up here.”

  “Do you think they put a tracker on you?”

  She shrugged. “It could be anywhere. My clothes. A spell someone brushed on me when I was at the meeting after work.”

  He would go crazy in a prison like that. Roark ground his teeth in indignation. They had to be stopped.

  “What do you want to do?”

  “I want a say in my future. Let’s go.”
<
br />   “Where?”

  “What about Wayfarer?” Her eyes were fathomless pools and when he peered into their depths, he remembered the unsettling encounter at Forbidden Ink. He’d looked up the best shops in a hundred mile radius and it was ranked as one of the top three. But what they both got when they arrived was akin to a fortune telling session with needles.

  He would never forget the owner’s words when they walked into the shop and he asked to see the selection of tattoos.

  “The Goddess picks your ink, boy.” The sultry, dark eyed vampire considered them both and then pointed at him. “You. Sit. I’ll be with you in a bit.”

  And she had. Hours later, after Izzy was done, he’d made an appointment to come the next night only to receive a masculine version of the same tattoo.

  The woman…Fae, he half remembered, contemplated him after she’d finished his ink. “Don’t be afraid to walk into the flames. There’s a reason why the phoenix chose you both, shifter. Just be worthy of her when the time comes.”

  What the hell she meant, he had no idea, but if it pertained to Izzy he’d do whatever it took.

  But now she wanted to leave to go back there? It was true the town boasted a higher than average shifter population and was home to Cirque Nocturne, but he had never considered that being the destination for their future together.

  “Wayfarer?”

  Izzy cut her eyes toward the road. “There. Or anywhere. We just have to go. Now. If the Bradford Coven puts its clamps on me I don’t know what will happen.”

  What she was asking him to do was nothing he hadn’t thought of before. Hell, he’d spent nights fantasizing about where they would go. Where they would live. But all of it hinged on her being older. Out of high school. Then he could officially claim her as his mate and no one could give them shit about it. She’d told him more than once that she’d love to work in a museum. There was a big one in Maberry. Maybe they could head there.

  It was too soon.

  But dammit he didn’t know what else to do.

  She marched to the passenger side of his truck and opened the door. Sliding onto the seat, she closed it behind her with a jarring slam.

  He darted to the driver’s side, his cat digging at him to hurry. Move faster. If the coven got their way, he’d never see her again. There was no telling where they were going to send her. But one thing was for certain. They would under no circumstances let him get anywhere near her again.

  It was now or never.

  He pulled his phone from his back pocket and shot a quick text off to Dustin.

  Coven in pursuit. Old Quarry road heading for highway. Isobel wants out.

  The pack would offer her protection. They had to. But first he had to get her out of here. It was worth the risk to have them discover he’d mated with her. There was no other choice to make.

  On my way.

  Dustin would support him. Even if he kicked his ass six ways to Sunday afterward. Roark shoved the phone back in his pocket and slid behind the wheel.

  “Who were you texting?”

  Roark patted her thigh. “Dustin. In case things go south, I want the pack involved. You have to be safe.”

  “Are you sure? I know what that will cost you.” She reached out and grabbed his hand, a suspicious glimmer of moisture in her eyes. “Thank you.”

  She was right. It could cost him everything. Dustin had laid down his warning at the last pack meeting. Because relations between the pack and Bradford Coven had gotten so strained, all pack members had been ordered to curtail their dealings with its members.

  He might as well have ordered Roark to fly to the moon. It wasn’t going to happen. He’d shit a gold brick if he found out he’d mated the girl.

  Fuck.

  The keys were still in the ignition. With a flick of the wrist, he started up the truck. Headlights approached and he hit the gas, spraying a shower of gravel at the oncoming vehicle.

  Maneuvering the truck, he edged it along the road toward the highway, praying he could make enough ground to get them to safety. Close to the edge of the ravine, this part of the drive was treacherous, but if he could get a good enough lead, there was an abandoned house on a dirt road near the highway that could serve has a hideout until the coast was clear.

  “Can you do something? Slow them down so we can get out of here?”

  “I can try.” With grim determination, she unbuckled her seatbelt and scrambled around in the seat until she was on her knees peering over the headrest. She gave him a sideways look. “Now don’t freak out, okay?”

  “Like this situation could get any weirder?”

  “You haven’t seen me do my thing, so…”

  “Well, no, but you haven’t seen me shift yet either.”

  “Point taken.” She took off her sweater, baring her pale arms.

  He caught the headlights in the mirror and let out a curse. They were getting closer.

  “Izzy…”

  The hair on his arms stood at attention as she began to whisper. Power crackled in the air as a blaze of fire careened toward the Bradford Coven members behind them. A white burst of light flashed, and deflected, Izzy’s ball of flame bounced away, falling into the ravine below.

  Shit.

  “Damn it.” Izzy swore and clenched her fists.

  He chanced a sideways look, marveling at her fierce determination. Izzy grit her teeth and kicked it up a notch, the power licking over her body.

  “Careful.”

  Fire was her gift, as it was with most of the coven. What he didn’t want was her to go overboard and tax herself too hard. He sped up, trying to put some distance between them and the assholes on their tail.

  “I’m trying.” Sweat pooled on her upper lip and her skin took on a fiery glow. She panted and he saw a wall of fire rip across the roadway behind them in his rearview mirror. It headed for the approaching car, enveloping it in flames.

  Only, the car didn’t stop.

  “Jesus!” Roark hung a hard right as the gravel road angled toward the highway, the burning car right behind them. “Izzy, sit down!”

  “What? Oh. Right.” She twisted around and was reaching for the seatbelt when he heard her sharp intake of breath. “Roark. Oh my Goddess.”

  “Hang on.”

  He merged onto the highway but didn’t even see the other car barreling down on them until he heard the angry protest of another driver laying down hard on the horn as their vehicles collided. The jar of the impact snapped his neck back. The truck spun, only to be hit by oncoming traffic in the other lane, and his body strained against the seat belt.

  Izzy jerked forward, the unclasped seatbelt useless against the gravity that held her in its thrall. She slammed forward, her head cracking against the windshield. Body tumbling, she slumped against the side of the truck as the flaming sedan with the coven members pitched into the side of the truck.

  “No!” He reached for her and the world went black.

  The pungent odors of blood, gasoline, and the scraping sound of twisting metal brought Roark back from whatever darkness he’d lapsed into. Blinking, he realized something wasn’t right. The truck had rolled. He hung from the seatbelt, his chest aching from the force of the impact with the airbag. Hell, he hadn’t even remembered it inflating.

  Roark drew a pained breath of smoky air and tried to move, wincing at the discomfort in his leg. A sharp piece of the shattered windshield had imbedded itself in his thigh. His jeans were almost black in the darkness from the blood. More glass had fallen beneath him. As he came to himself, he examined his surroundings, finding the door to his truck torn off. The sounds of an approaching ambulance brought reality slamming back like a brick to the head.

  Izzy. Where was she?

  He found her in the fuzzy glow of the door ajar lights. She lay crumpled beneath him against the passenger side of the truck. Blood from her head wound trickled across her pale face, turning her red hair dark.

  “Izzy,” he rasped. The seatbelt, while holding hi
m in place also squeezed his midsection painfully tight. The acrid smoke grew thicker, the heat of the blaze from the other car much too close.

  He had to get her out of here before the truck blew.

  Fuck.

  She was too still.

  No.

  Oh no.

  There had to be a way to get her out of here. The overpowering stink of gasoline mixing with the scent of her blood was maddening.

  “Izzy. I’m coming.” Roark struggled to slide his hand into his pocket; certain he’d taken his pocketknife with him on shift earlier that night.

  Victory.

  With shaking hands, he opened the knife and began to saw the seatbelt holding him in place. Minutes later, the strap gave and he went to work on the other one. He started to cut through but glancing at the shard of glass, he weighed his options. Pull it out or leave it?

  A flicker of flame out of the corner of his eye settled the matter for him.

  He sawed faster, cursing as the bloody grime on his hands made his grip less than ideal. The knife slipped from his hand and he winced as it fell, praying it didn’t hit Isobel. As he reached for it, he realized one of her books was lodged in between the seats. He wedged it out and stuffed it in the waistband of his jeans.

  “Roark!”

  A shadow fell over the space where the driver’s door had been.

  Dustin.

  Two more faces appeared. Connor and Riley.

  “I’m okay. We have to get Izzy. The fire…”

  “You first.” His Alpha directed, eyes hard. “Connor, get us a couple paramedics. We have to get them out of here. The fire is spreading. Riley, see if you can scope out where those bastards in the sedan vanished to.”

  “Got it.”

  “I’ll find ’em.”

  Dustin lifted his head, looking over his shoulder at what sounded like a gurney approaching.

  “Get him out. And his girl.”

  The next few moments were a blur. Paramedics lifted him out of the truck and carried him to the gurney.

  “I have to get Izzy.”

  “No.” The paramedic narrowed his eyes. “You move that,” he pointed to the glass shard in his thigh. “And you’ll bleed out before we can ever get you to the hospital.”

  “Not human.” He growled, his cat close to the surface. His mate was in danger and this asshole was keeping him from her.