Flame's Embrace

by Pillar, Amanda

  He beat her to punch, giving an uncertain glance to Lana.

  “I’m not a qualified perfume expert.”

  “Nonsense. You’re a guy, which means you are fully qualified to tell us if my latest creation is appealing or not. Please?”

  Lana cast a pleading look between them both, her big blue eyes hard to resist.

  “Sure. It’s always nice to have an opinion,” Bridget relented. She twisted off the cap and applied some of the oil to her finger, then swiped the fragrance across her wrist and inner elbow. The depth of plum had been perfectly blended with jasmine and honeysuckle, creating a scent that was both sophisticated and sexy. Given the way the man’s nostrils flared, followed by one brow cocking with interest, Bridget knew she’d picked a winner.

  “May I?” He held out his hand.

  Ignoring her better judgment, she set her hand in his, surprised to feel calluses on his palm. His hands were those of someone who worked hard. Slowly, watching her for any sign of resistance, he lifted her hand and tilted his head downward, taking a long, slow breath. Her stomach did a little flip.

  “Well?” Lana prodded.

  “I think whoever you’re wearing this for is very lucky, miss…?”

  “Bridget.” A name wasn’t going to hurt anything.

  “Warren Westbrook. A pleasure.” He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze before releasing her. She’d nearly expected him to kiss her knuckles and was sadly disappointed when he didn’t.

  “Likewise.”

  The man had a charming smile. That was a sort of distraction she most definitely did not need. Nevermind that she hadn’t felt a stirring of interest for anyone in a long time.

  “Well, ladies, I believe that I will leave you to your business and head back to my hotel. Next time I’m in town, I promise I’ll make it an extended trip, Lana.”

  Lana leaned forward and kissed the man’s cheek. “Let me call you a cab.”

  “I’ll walk.” He hugged her with one arm in return. “It’s my only chance to see Central Park.”

  “Okay. Safe flight tomorrow. Take this for luck.”

  When Lana tucked a polished piece of malachite into his pocket, he rolled his eyes, but placed one hand over it.

  “Thank you.”

  Bridget waited until the handsome man had left, the door firmly shut behind him, before looking at Lana. “Family?”

  “Yeah. From Texas.” Lana shook her head and passed over a neatly packaged bag. “Dull place. I wouldn’t be caught dead living in a small town.”

  “I don’t know, doesn’t sound so bad. Anyway, thanks again. Have a good night.”

  “You too.”

  Outside, Bridget paused to take a deep breath and had instant regrets. The stink of the city was inescapable, but there was more on the wind than the usual trash and piss.

  “Not my problem,” she muttered to herself.

  But there was another scent in the air, a distinctive cologne beneath the rot. Common sense told her to turn the opposite way, forget about it, and not get involved.

  She really needed to listen to that voice.

  *

  The air had a particularly pungent smell to it that Warren attributed to city life. The stink of piss, industry, and maybe too many homeless gave Manhattan a unique kind of odor.

  That isn’t a homeless man you’re smelling, a tiny voice of common sense told him.

  It was a particular kind of rancid smell associated with rotting meat. Death.

  Members of the supernatural world knew that slaves to the undead came in two particular flavors—thralls and ghouls. The former lived, breathed, and carried on with their lives with a hellacious addiction to vampire blood. The latter had a different nutritional requirement. They fed on flesh. The more magical the flesh, the better, making them one of a few dozen creatures that hunted supernatural prey.

  Where there were ghouls, there were most definitely vampires. The nice sort didn’t keep flesh-eating pets.

  “See the sights, Warren. Enjoy the city,” he muttered under his breath, quickening his steps. “Nobody said anything about becoming a bloodbag.”

  Or someone’s slab of rare steak, for that matter. Ghouls unsettled him most of all. They were ugly, ravenous and wild things that obeyed only their masters, useful only for simple instructions and causing damage.

  He veered down a path toward one of the underpasses. To anyone else, the deep shadows would have been the last place they wanted to get caught in. For Warren, they were no threat.

  The odor persisted, following him like a noxious fog.

  They were definitely on his trail, whoever they were, and he had no doubt they smelled the magic in his veins as clearly as he smelled their undeath.

  The darkness embraced him, wrapping around him like armor under his control. When the first ghoul revealed itself, Warren didn’t wait. He lashed out, shaping the shadows into a barbed whip. The hunched creature fell, its head disconnected from its body, but another quickly took its place. This one used more caution, keeping a wary distance while forcing Warren to circle around to keep it in view. He almost realized his mistake too late, but the shadows whispered to him, warning him of the other two creatures flanking him from above. They clung to the stones like spiders and dropped, fangs bared.

  Warren pulled on the shadows, teleporting both beyond the bridge. Their bodies smacked against the pavement. Hard.

  The maneuver bought him a few additional moments. More of the creatures swarmed in a pack larger than he’d ever seen.

  He could save his own skin and teleport to safety, but that would leave a ravenous pack stirred up and on the hunt for a meal. No one passing anywhere close to the park would be safe, and the authorities would chalk it up to a serial killer.

  No. Better to handle them here and now, and hope he wasn’t in over his head.

  He had to send a message to the ghouls, as well as their master.

  *

  It served Bridget right for underestimating a man and assuming right off the bat he’d be helpless. When she caught the whiff of magic in the shop, she’d foolishly assumed it to belong to the proprietors.

  Initially, she considered flying away and leaving him to finish.

  Her conscience wouldn’t allow it, however. Besides, she liked watching him in action. He moved with confidence and had tight control over his magic. The strange part was that he didn’t seem to be using any sort of focus. At least, none that she could see.

  Obviously, he had the situation handled. There was absolutely no reason for her to involve herself. He took hold of the shadows and darkness as if they were his weapons, controlling them as tendrils and spikes with substance. They pierced undead flesh and burst through hearts. There was a beauty to the way he fought the hoard.

  She prepared to take flight from the trees when another shifting shadow caught her attention crawling through the growth near the bridge. Damn, how many of them were there?

  Putting aside all intentions to let him battle on his own, Bridget swooped from the trees and ignited. Her brilliant scarlet and purple plumage burst into golden flames, radiating heat and light over the ground below.

  The man looked up, astonishment evident on his face. The moment was brief, all his focus once again turned on staying alive. She swooped past him and beat at the air with her powerful wings, filling the dark space beneath the bridge with a rolling wave of fire. She soared through the inferno and raked her claws through the nearest ghoul, rending it with the ease of shredding tissue. The foul creature shrieked. It twirled and desperately spun without hope of putting out the flames.

  Screaming, Bridget swooped down again and landed amidst the cluster of them with flames trailing from her wings. Each feather lit with the bright intensity of a nuclear core. Built inside her body, reaching blast furnace levels of heat.

  One glance at the mage indicated he had the wisdom to recognize her intent. He stepped back and stamped his staff into the soil.
Sparks of magic ignited around him and sprang from the stone, erecting and erected a magical barrier. The moment it engulfed him from head to toe in a perfect sphere, she released the flames building inside her.

  The closest of the three ghouls went up like tinder, shrieking.

  Heat licked against the barrier and crackled. Flames lapped over undead flesh and filled the narrow space beneath the bridge with the pungent odor of cooking flesh.

  *

  If anyone else had told him they saw a phoenix, Warren would have called bullshit. He stared in awe of the beautiful creature, still mystified by its spontaneous arrival.

  The last phoenix hadn’t been seen by the magical community in decades, as far as he knew. Some mages went their entire lives without ever meeting one, as they were powerful and resistant to the call if a circle, or even a family, attempted to call one as a familiar.

  This one had come without invitation.

  Warren sucked in a long breath. The bird hadn’t left.

  In fact, she cocked her head and gazed up at him as if waiting.

  Did she want gratitude?

  His immediate surroundings smelled of warm sunshine and open skies despite the smoldering bodies near them. He appreciated whatever magical spell she’d cast to spare him that.

  She stepped closer on long legs shimmering with ruby feathers. She neared him, moving into his personal space.

  A light washed over him that was pure and beautiful, the illumination of her gilded down feathers bathing him in rejuvenating warmth. He could have basked in her glow forever.

  He wanted to.

  Little by little, the scratches and scrapes on his forearms closed.

  Warren raised one hand, only to drop it again. She wasn’t a dog, and he had no intention of insulting a higher magical creature by offering to pet it. “Thank you,” he murmured instead.

  Keen intelligence shone in her eyes. She stepped closer and scrambled upon one of his knees. The weight of her took him by surprise, but he maintained precarious balance instead of tumbling on his ass.

  Sharp claws pricked his skin and poked without causing harm through his trousers. Then her smooth beak touched his cheek, and the kiss of silky feathers caressed his jaw. The breath caught in his throat.

  A phoenix was cuddling him. For lack of knowing what else to do, he stroked one of her wings.

  “Thank you,” Warren said again.

  His wounds healed entirely. Not so much as a scrape remained on his knuckles, and enough energy surged through him to run three marathons.

  “Would you—?”

  The phoenix jumped down to the ashen ground, and in a flare of golden light, vanished from his sight. A single tailfeather drifted to the ground but retained the sparkle of life as if she were still there.

  A gift, he supposed.

  Smiling, Warren plucked it from the ground and tucked it into his blazer. Then, following the creature’s lead, he teleported out of the park and returned to his hotel.

  Law enforcement, when they eventually arrived, would have questions he didn’t want to answer about the bodies punched full of gaping holes and the piles of charred remains.

  The End

  Look for Flame and Shadow December 2020 when Warren and Bridget meet again.

  When a supernatural poacher drives the phoenix Bridget to the secluded town of Decima, Texas, hiding among several magical families seems like the solution to her problem. All is well, until she crosses paths with Warren Westbrook, the smoldering hot heir to the local wizard’s circle.

  Sparks fly between them, but phoenixes shouldn’t be drawn to magicians. If she isn’t careful, one of them is sure to get burned. Warren needs the heart of a phoenix to cure his ailing father, and Bridget only has one to give.

  Each novel in the Circle of Secrets series will be another romantic couple. No cliffhangers.

  About Vivienne

  Vivienne Savage is the pen name of two best friends who write together. One is a former nurse in Texas and the other is a U.S. Navy veteran. Both are mothers to two darling boys and two amazing girls.

  All of their work varies in steam level, so pop by the VS website for details on which series is right for you!

  For more information go to:

  www.viviennesavage.com

  vivi@viviennesavage.com

  fbook: facebook.com/savage.books

  Instagram: @msvsavage

  Tide Together

  Bam Shepherd

  Chapter 1

  Maren

  “Maybe we should kill him,” Bay muses, from where she’s floating near my bed. She tilts her head, her long, raven-colored locks dancing about her face as she considers the idea.

  My eyes widen in horror as I spin to face her.

  “What the shell?” I gasp. “Why would we need to kill him?”

  Bay shrugs. “We need to ensure that ya make it to land without detection. King Tryton has increased all patrols since you first suggested going to the surface last week, and it seems like Caspian has made it his personal mission to stick to ya like a barnacle. How else are we supposed to handle him?” She crosses her arms over her chest and raises one perfectly arched brow at me like I’m the crazy one.

  I shake my head. Leave it to Bay to land on the most extreme idea first. As the only woman on The Pacifica Guard, she wears her ruthlessness like a shell, but I have a feeling that we need a plan with a softer touch.

  “I thought maybe Loire could distract him with all of that,” I say, waving my hands to indicate all of her.

  Loire wrinkles her button nose, her cerulean eyes shining with disgust. “No bloody way,” she says with a delicate cringe. Her long, honey colored hair whips back and forth, sliding along her generous curves as she makes sure her disdain is known. “That yabbo is as prickly as a sea urchin, and I, for one, am not interested in getting stung–if ya know what I mean.”

  I roll my eyes at her. “Come on, Loire. Caspian only has one soft spot, and that’s you.”

  She opens her mouth to object, but I hold up a hand and turn pleading eyes on her.

  “Something is wrong,” I say, tucking a strand of my long, pearl colored hair behind my ear. “I can feel it in my fins, and I know that the humans have the answers we need.” When she doesn’t seem moved, I continue, counting my reasons on my fingers: “It’s been unseasonably warm, my favorite blue tang hasn’t been around in days, and we’re seeing fish farther from shore than they should be. It’s like the ecosystem is out of whack.” I glance up at her, my icy stare unwavering with determination. “I need answers. Shell, we all do, but I understand if ya can’t or won’t help.”

  Just because I can’t be punished for disobeying King Tryton, doesn’t mean my friends have the same fortune. Bay could lose her spot on The Guard if my father finds out she’s helping me disobey his orders. My worried gaze darts to where she’s swimming along the length of my balcony. The doors are closed, ensuring our conversation isn’t overheard, but Bay doesn’t believe in leaving anything to chance. She catches me staring as she turns, doing one more sweep of the perimeter with a flick of her dark tail.

  “Don’t even think about it,” she says, narrowing her green-eyed glare on me. “You already know that I’m in. I may not have a tie to all of the ocean’s animals like you do, but I can feel a disturbance in the waters. If King Tryton isn’t willing to go to the surface for answers, then I’m sure as shell gonna help ya do the Harry.”

  “Fine,” Loire sighs. “I’ll do it. I’ll make fishy kisses with Caspian, but this qualifies as your coronation gift.”

  I squeal, swimming over to wrap my arms around her. I spin us in a circle, and Loire giggles as our tails churn bubbles that tickle across our scales.

  “Excellent,” Bay says. Mischief shines in her eyes as she darts across the room to join our little huddle. “Now that we’ve got the bait–” Loire huffs indignantly at the derogatory term, but Bay ignores her and continues. “I know just
how to get ya to the surface.”

  *

  My mouth falls open as I take in the man astride the mako shark. His shoulder-length bronze hair ripples out behind him as he comes to an abrupt stop. This isn’t my first time leaving Pacifica, but I’ve never been the most adventurous of mermaids. And though I’ve heard tales of the shark surfers, I’ve never actually laid eyes on one of them until today. Though, I have to admit that seeing him atop a shark is the least shocking thing about his sudden appearance.

  My eyes sweep across his scale covered legs. I’ve never seen a merman without his tail. Sure, lots of my friends had rebelled and gone to the surface to see what they’d look like with legs, but I’ve never been brave enough to try, and I’ve definitely never seen the mermen capable of a partial shift.

  Doubt at my ability to do this creeps in, but the feel of my beloved sea creatures’ pain and fear is enough to trample down those thoughts and do what I know must be done.

  My eyes dart back to the man atop the shark, and I feel a brief pang of jealousy at his fearlessness. The shark surfers take rebellion to a new level. They’ve gone through the pain of transitioning from tail to legs so many times that their body no longer fights the shift in water, allowing them to live in this half-shifted state.

  “Like something ya see?” the man asks, his amber-colored eyes lighting with humor.

  “Oi, put a sock in it, Shad,” Bay says, rolling her eyes. “We’ve only got a small window to get Maren out of here before The Guard notices she’s gone and starts looking for her.”

  Bay’s words sober him, and his posture stiffens. “What’s the John Dory?”

  “Something is wrong. The ocean temperatures are rising the closer you get to the land, and we need to figure out what’s happening to the humans. King Tryton thinks human problems have no place in our world, but Maren knows better. Everything those sand settlers do affects us, and this time they’ve mucked it up good.”

  Shad grimaces. “We’ve felt it, too,” he admits, running a hand over the back of his neck. “There are rumors that Oceana and the other neighboring kingdoms have started to feel the disturbances as well. Even the sharks are moving further out.” He turns a sheepish look on me. “Unfortunately, that means I can’t get ya as close as you hoped, princess.”