by Zoe Chant
He felt like his father had just whipped the ground out from under his feet. “What are you saying?”
His father sighed, his shoulders slumping. For once, he didn’t look self-possessed and sardonic. Every line of his face betrayed his worry.
“I’m saying that you can’t charge blindly into a physical relationship,” Hugh said heavily. “Not for selfish reasons, with secrets still between you. If you do…it won’t matter that she’s your mate. You’ll lose your unicorn.”
Chapter 7
Bethany poked her head through the flap of the feline rescue tent. “Your fawn is loose.”
“Ha ha.” Candice didn’t pause in shaking kibble into bowls. “Very funny.”
“No, seriously.” Bethany stepped into the tent, Flash cradled in her arms. “I found her wandering around outside. Again.”
This time Candice did stop, much to the displeasure of the eight cats waiting for their dinner. She narrowed her eyes at the vet. “Are you messing with me?”
“If I was, I’d pick a more believable way to prank you.” Bethany shook her head, looking baffled. “I have no idea how she’s getting out. Not only that, she’s closing and locking the cage behind her. I checked.”
Candice frowned at the fawn, who was now innocently nibbling Bethany’s shirt buttons. “Well, she can’t be magicking her way out.”
“You should have named her Houdini.” Bethany freed her blouse from Flash’s inquisitive mouth. “Maybe the cage is defective.”
Personally, Candice thought it far more likely that Bethany was messing with her. Though practical jokes were a bit of a departure from the vet’s usual sense of humor, which tended more to sarcastic remarks. It was one of the reasons the two of them got on so well.
The feline chorus of disapproval was reaching deafening levels. She went back to her task, doling out the food bowls as fast as she could.
“I’ll take a look at the cage once I’ve finished here,” she said, as meows transformed into munching. She cast another glance at the fawn, her frown deepening. “I wonder why she’s so determined to escape, anyway.”
“Maybe she’s lonely in that big trailer all by herself.” Bethany was having a hard time keeping a grip on Flash. “Or she’s imprinted on you.”
“She’s a deer, not a duckling. She probably just associates me with food.”
Nonetheless, Flash did seem to be straining in her direction. The fawn’s strange purple eyes were fixed on her face in a way that Candice would have called adoring, if she was a more sentimental person.
It would take a heart of stone to resist that winsome expression. Candice sighed.
“All right, you can stay here with me,” she said to Flash. “But you’re going back in the cage later, understand? I draw the line at deer in my bed.”
Bethany smirked as she handed her the fawn. “Especially when it’s already reserved for a smoking hot firefighter.”
Candice wrinkled her nose. “If he actually comes.”
“Oh, I think he fully intends to come. Let’s hope he’s got the skills to make sure you do as well.” Bethany’s dirty grin widened. “Though from what I saw, there’s no worries there. Looked like he was on the verge of managing that through two layers of clothing.”
Just the memory of Wystan’s hard body pressed against hers was having a certain effect. The man had better turn up, or her vibrator was going to be getting one heck of a work out tonight.
“You don’t mind doing the night checkups?” Candice asked Bethany. “I know it’s my turn on the rota, but I’ll take the next two shifts in return.”
“Don’t make promises now.” Bethany waggled her eyebrows. “You might find yourself wanting to keep all your upcoming nights free, at least while a certain hotshot crew is still in camp.”
Candice shook her head firmly. “Not going to happen. I don’t do rematches.”
“Didn’t he say he didn’t do one night stands?”
“Still not going to happen. Anyway, he was just saying that. It’s probably part of his standard script to charm women into bed.”
Bethany pursed her lips. “Girl, even I can tell that a man who looks like that doesn’t need a script to charm anyone. He seemed pretty serious to me.”
“Says the lesbian. Be glad you don’t have to deal with all the garbage straight men spout. No doubt he assumed he had to dangle the prospect of a relationship in front of me like a worm on a hook.”
“Only you would compare a relationship to worms.” Bethany sighed. “Well, I can only hope that the sex is so fabulous you finally break your own rules.”
“Gee, thanks. It’s so nice to know that my best friend is rooting for me to end up sobbing broken-heartedly into a tub of Chunky Monkey.”
Bethany gave her a look. “Not all relationships end in tragedy, you realize.”
Candice turned her head, showing the right side of her face. Nothing more needed to be said.
Bethany cast her eyes up to the heavens, or at least the canvas ceiling, giving up. “Well, I’m going to go take a shower and get a few hour’s sleep. Enjoy your definitely-single-use-only firefighter.”
“Oh, shut up.” Candice shooed her away.
She put Flash down, keeping a careful eye on her in case she lived up to her name and made a bolt for the great outdoors. The little fawn seemed happy now that she had company, though. She nosed about the big tent, inspecting cat litter bags and catch nets with equal curiosity, as Candice finished settling all the rescued cats in for the night.
She was halfway through updating all the feed times on the clipboards when she became aware of something odd.
Normally, cats rescued from fires were defensive and shy, spending most of their time huddled at the very back of their cages. Now, however, every single cat had its nose right up against the bars. Eight pairs of feline eyes were fixed on Flash.
Her first thought was that the cats were viewing the fawn as a four-footed dessert cart. But there was nothing predatory about their regard--no bristling whiskers or eager butt-wiggling. The cats were simply…watching.
No, not just watching. A faint, soft rumbling vibrated the air, underneath the louder hum of the generator.
They were watching…and purring.
“Okay, that’s weird.” Candice bent to peer through the bars at a big ginger Persian. He stopped purring to shoot her a disgruntled glare, as though she’d interrupted his favorite TV show. “I know she’s cute and all, but you guys are supposed to be indifferent to that sort of thing. What happened to the famous cat superiority?”
Flash, for her part, seemed completely unbothered by the mass feline attention. She sniffed noses with the lowest layer of cats without a trace of fear. Even a feral tomcat that had ripped through four of Candice’s catch-nets politely exchanged greetings with the fawn, all the while rumbling like a coffee grinder.
“Huh.” Candice shook her head in bemusement. “How about that. You’re like an emotional support animal for animals. Want a job as a nurse, Flash?”
The little deer’s ears swiveled as though she could tell she was being addressed. She cocked her head to one side, then snorted.
“No, suppose not. It’s not practical, anyway.” Candice bent to pet the fawn. “Wouldn’t be much of a life for you, cooped up in metal trailers, carted from disaster zone to disaster zone.”
Candice knew it wasn’t sensible to get attached to any one animal. It was one of the first things she’d learned as an animal rescue officer. You had to care deeply, but lightly. Love, but let go.
Nonetheless, some part of her couldn’t help wishing that she could keep Flash with her. There was just something about the deer. Her white coat seemed to glow with an inner radiance that made even the dingy, patched tent seem warm and homely. As Candice stroked the fawn, her own shoulders relaxed, releasing a knot of tension she hadn’t even known she was carrying.
Flash’s broad ears pricked up. The fawn went from relaxed to alert in a heartbeat, tiny hooves twinkling as she pr
anced to the door flap.
“Guess you’re trying to tell me someone is coming.” Candice scooped up the excited deer just as a soft cough sounded from outside. “Oof! Stop wiggling!”
With some difficulty, Candice managed to juggle Flash and pull back the tent flap. From the fawn’s enthusiasm, she’d already guessed who would be standing on the other side of it.
She had not, however, been expecting Wystan to be holding a bouquet of wildflowers.
For his part, he clearly hadn’t been expecting her to be holding a fawn.
Flash took full advantage of their mutual surprise.
“Oops.” Candice wrestled the deer back, too late. “Sorry. From her point of view, you were offering her a snack.”
Wystan looked down at the now mostly headless bundle of stems in his hand. “Do you always answer the door while carrying wildlife?”
Candice shrugged as Flash munched happily, daisy petals dribbling from her busy jaws. “More often than not.”
“Perhaps is just as well I wasn’t able to locate two dozen red roses.” Wystan shook his head, his mouth curling up as he held out the remains of the bouquet—not to her, but to Flash. “Ah well, at least someone’s enjoying them.”
No one had ever brought Candice flowers before.
Not that she’d ever wanted them. As far as she was concerned, gifts were just a not-so-subtle form of pressure—look, I bought you a thing, now you have to let me into your panties.
But as Wystan fed the rest of the stalks into Flash’s eager maw, something inside her softened a little. It wasn’t that he’d brought her flowers, or at least tried to. It was that slight, rueful smile; his genuine amusement as his attempt at a romantic gesture disappeared down a deer’s gullet.
You had to like a man who could laugh at himself.
She could really like this man.
Oh no, she thought in dismay.
“All gone, I’m afraid,” Wystan said to Flash as the fawn licked at his fingers. “I promise I’ll find you some more tomorrow. But not right now.”
He started to hold out his hand, then grimaced and swapped it for the hand not covered in deer spit. “If you’re done here for the day?”
If she was smart, Candice knew, she should claim an unexpected emergency. Some animal in urgent need of treatment. She should run a mile before her traitor heart could melt any further. It was a bad idea to sleep with someone she actually liked.
But with Wystan standing there in front of her, the setting sun gilding his white-gold hair, she couldn’t say no. He’d changed out of his turn out gear, into slim-fitting black jeans and a figure-hugging T-shirt emblazoned with THUNDER MOUNTAIN HOTSHOTS in yellow letters. Even though she’d already seen the full glory of his ripped torso, somehow he was even more enticing covered up, like a glittering Christmas present waiting to be unwrapped.
I’m going to regret this, she thought, and took his hand.
Chapter 8
I’m doing something very wrong.
Wystan hadn’t missed that moment of hesitation. For a heart-stopping second, he’d been convinced Candice had been about to shut the tent flap in his face.
He had no idea what had caused her sudden wariness. Even with her hand warm in his, she felt distant, as though there was some invisible barrier between them.
“I’m nearly done here,” Candice said, pulling him in the direction of the big trailer. “Just need to put Flash back in her cage.”
The baby unicorn in her arms put her ears back, letting out an indignant huff. Wystan received a very distinct mental picture of sharp hooves stomping a wire cage flat.
“I know you don’t like it,” Candice told the small animal, as though she too had received the telepathic message. “Tough beans. Two’s company, three’s a crowd.” She cast him a sly sideways look. “And the things I’m planning to do tonight aren’t for the eyes of kids.”
Oh no. Dismay twisted his stomach, even as the wicked glint in her eyes had an entirely different effect on other parts of his body. Of course. She’s still expecting sex.
We must give our mate what she wants, his unicorn said promptly. At length. Repeatedly.
Are you suicidal? he snapped at his inner beast. She may find us attractive, but we’ve hardly given her reason to fall head-over-heels in love with us. You heard my father, it’s too soon to risk going to her bed. Do you want to disappear in a puff of sexual ecstasy?
His unicorn flicked an ear, supremely unconcerned. It would be worth it.
“Something wrong?” Candice asked. “You’re looking a little pained.”
“Er.” He groped for an excuse that wasn’t: Sorry, the animal in my head is giving me terrible advice. “Just a bit of a headache.”
“Oh.” To his dismay, Candice started to pull her hand out of his. “You know, you don’t have to make up excuses. If you’ve changed your mind—“
“No!” He tightened his grip, catching her fingers before she could slip away. “That’s not what I meant. I truly did have a headache. But it’s gone now.”
It was true, he realized. The oppressive weight that had been smothering him all afternoon had lifted. He could no longer feel the grinding irritation of being surrounded by unchaste people. It was as though Candice was an umbrella, sheltering him from the psychic storm of the crowded fire camp.
In one way, it was a relief. It had been a strain, coping with his unicorn’s increasing distress. He had a new respect for his own father. He could only imagine how hard it had been for him to live with that level of sensitivity for decades.
But on the other hand…the headache had been a good sign. If Candice’s presence stopped the pain, was she also stopping his powers from awakening at last?
They’d reached the big trailer. He was forced to relinquish Candice at last so that she could unlock the door. She turned to confront him, one hand resting on the handle.
“Look, bud,” she said, lifting her chin. Her burn scars stood out vividly against her tanned skin. “I’m a big girl. You don’t need to worry about hurting my feelings. You don’t really seem to be into this. Maybe we should just call the whole thing off.”
“No!” The word shot out of him with rather more force than he’d intended. It was all he could do not to lunge at her. Every instinct screamed to hold her close and never, ever let her go. “Believe me, I am very into you.”
Her penetrating blue eyes searched his features as though measuring his sincerity. “Let’s be really clear here, just for the sake of formality. You do want to have sex with me tonight, right?”
If he said no now, she’d take it as a sign that he wasn’t really interested after all. Saying that he wanted to wait or get to know her better first would just sound like a feeble excuse.
He’d been silent too long. Candice was starting to turn away. He seized her shoulders, stopping her.
“Yes.” He would have said anything, promised her anything, to stop her from walking away. “Yes. I want that. I want you.”
It was, after all, absolutely true.
Candice hesitated a moment longer, then shook her head.
“I can’t make you out at all,” she said. Nonetheless, she opened the door. “One moment you seem to be in your own little world, the next you’re full-on intense. You can relax, you know. Dial it back a little, okay?”
“I’ll try.” On impulse, he added, honestly, “I’m just terrified that you’ll shut the door in my face if I say the wrong thing.”
Her expression finally lightened. She hooked a finger over the top of his jeans, making his breath catch in his throat.
She pulled him inside. “Then don’t say anything at all.”
At that moment, wild horses couldn’t have dragged words out of him. Her light touch against his hip set fire to his entire body, banishing all other thought. Only the fact that she still had the baby unicorn in her arms stopped him from pushing her up against the nearest wall.
Candice glanced up at him, and did a double-take, her eyes widenin
g. Her tongue flicked out, brushing over her lips in a way that made his abdominal muscles clench.
“Holy hotness,” she muttered. “I take it back. Be as intense as you want. Hold that thought for two seconds, okay? I just need to put Flash to bed. Then I’m all yours.”
His unicorn pranced in his mind, horn blazing in triumph. Distantly, he knew that he had to rein his beast in, but at the moment it was hard to remember why.
Every flex of Candice’s body was a new revelation. When she squatted down to put Flash back into the cage, it was all he could do not to groan out loud. The curve of her thighs, the lushness of her hips, the strength in her arms as she dragged heavy boxes around the cage—
Wait, what?
He blinked, the reality of what she was doing finally penetrating his erotic reverie. The baby unicorn was now peering disconsolately out from a veritable fortress of crates, the wire bars of her own cage barely visible. Her lavender eyes fixed on him as if in hope of rescue.
“Is that strictly necessary?” he ventured.
“Yep.” With a grunt, Candice hefted a pallet of dog food cans on top of the pile. “Apparently our little Flash is quite the escape artist. Let’s see you get out of that, baby.”
Flash huffed, the glow from her horn brightening. She eyed the crates with the distinct air of a duelist sizing up an opponent.
Worried that Flash might start hurling herself at the walls, Wystan crouched down. “Please, little one, lie down and rest. It’s been a long day and you need to recover your strength. I promise, we aren’t going far. If you call, I’ll come back straight away.”
Candice was staring at him. He realized that he was, to her perspective, making an earnest and heartfelt speech to a baby deer.
He cleared his throat, his face heating. “I, ah, was just trying to calm her down. I was worried she might hurt herself on the bars.”
Candice didn’t look like someone who was concerned for his sanity. There was a strange tenderness to her expression, a kind of gentle warmth that he’d previously only seen her direct at creatures with four legs.
