Firefighter Phoenix

by Zoe Chant

  “Sir? Sir! Time isn’t up yet, and you need to hand in your—”

  The old wolf rounded on the blonde human, snarling something. Rose couldn’t see his face, but the organizer recoiled, clutching her clipboard like a shield. Without a backward glance, Wayne stalked out, slamming the bar door behind him.

  White-faced, the organizer fumbled for her whistle, raising it to her lips. The shrill noise was rather shakier than it had been previously.

  “Th-that’s the end of the evening, ladies and gentlemen!” The organizer cleared her throat, rallying herself. “I hope you’ve all enjoyed your dates. Now it’s time to make your final decisions. Gentlemen, if you could come to the bar to hand me your forms. Ladies, please remain at your tables. I’ll come to each of you in turn after I’ve collected the men’s data. I’m sure you’re all eager to discover who you’ve matched with!”

  Rose sank back into her chair. She was still half-minded to go after Wayne, but she’d have to push her way through the crowd of men congregating at the bar in order to reach the door. She didn’t want to reject Jim-not-Tim or any of the other perfectly nice men that obviously.

  I’ll find out what’s wrong with Wayne tomorrow night, she decided. No matter what was troubling him, she was sure he’d still come to the Full Moon as usual. Chasing madly after someone usually only made them run away faster, after all.

  Ash was certainly proof of that.

  She was thinking about him again.

  Rose stared determinedly down at her form. Her pen hovered over the empty checkbox next to Jim-not-Tim’s name. He had been very nice. Exactly the sort of man she should want. Undemanding. Uncomplicated.

  Uninteresting.

  “Are you all done with that, Ms. Swanmay, or do you want me to come back in a few minutes?” The organizer had come over to her table, smiling brightly. “There are so many wonderful men here tonight, I know it’s difficult to choose!”

  Rose guiltily twitched her sheet up, so that the woman couldn’t see the blank, empty column where she was supposed to mark the men she’d like to see again. She opened her mouth to ask for more time—and paused.

  The organiser’s smile was just a shade too fixed. She held her clipboard close to her chest, as though she too had something to hide. Rose focused her empathic sense on the woman, and had a distinct impression of pity.

  Rose abruptly knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that none of the men had written her name down.

  She thrust her unmarked sheet at the organizer. The woman glanced down the empty column, and her tight expression relaxed.

  “Oh, what a pity. There’ll be a lot of disappointed gentlemen,” the organizer lied, relief practically steaming off her. “Well, it’s only your first time. I’m sure if you come back—”

  “Thank you,” Rose interrupted, desperate to be out of there. “But I don’t think I will. Excuse me.”

  Brushing aside the organizer’s half-hearted attempt to stop her, she fled. The men were still hanging around the bar. Head down, mumbling apologies, Rose pushed through them. She tried not to catch anyone’s eye, but was still painfully aware of Jim-not-Tim glancing in her direction. His gaze passed straight through her, without a flicker of acknowledgment.

  Guess he was just being polite too. They were all just being polite.

  It shouldn’t have mattered. She hadn’t wanted any of them, after all.

  But…it did matter, it did. So many men, and none of them had chosen her. She’d been so sure that at least some of them had been interested.

  Then again, she’d been sure of Ash too.

  She burst out into the cool evening air, face hot with humiliation. She started walking, fast, her feet automatically turning in the direction of her home. She needed to be back in the Full Moon. Back in her place, behind the bar, where she belonged.

  She’d been stupid to ever leave. Stupid to reach for anything more. Stupid to dream.

  She scrubbed angrily at her eyes, brushing away the stupid, stupid tears. She didn’t have anything to cry about. She was the person people turned to when they needed to cry. That was her role. That was what she was good at. She provided comfort and support, a welcoming space and a listening ear.

  There wasn’t anywhere to go when she needed those things.

  As she turned down an alleyway, Rose became aware that there was a slight echo to her footsteps, a soft tread falling not quite in time with her own. She halted, and the sound stopped too. Silence enfolded her like vast, gentle wings.

  She squeezed her eyes tight shut. “Ash,” she said, without looking round.

  “Rose,” he said quietly, from right behind her.

  “This is becoming a habit.” She fought to keep her tone light, betraying nothing of the tears streaking her cheeks. “At least you didn’t have to set fire to anything this time.”

  He made a wordless, noncommittal noise as he came up to her side. Rose turned her head away, hoping that the darkness would hide her face.

  A jolt went through her as his fingers brushed her elbow, very lightly. “Let me walk you home.”

  “Just a minute.” Keeping her head ducked down, Rose rummaged in her handbag for a tissue. “Sorry, I-I’ve got a cold.”

  Moonlight silvered the side of his face, casting a shadow over his eyes. He said nothing.

  Rose made a show of blowing her nose, surreptitiously wiping her tears as she did so. “There,” she said, shoving the tissue in her pocket. She tried to smile up at him. “I appreciate you watching out for me, Ash, but there’s no need to put yourself to all this trouble. I can find my own way home.”

  His hand was still on her arm. It was the barest touch, but she felt it through her whole body. His fingers tightened fractionally, in unspoken command. Without conscious thought, Rose found herself falling into step with him.

  “You are upset.” He stared straight ahead as he spoke, not looking at her. “What is wrong?”

  “Oh, nothing. I’m fine.”

  “Rose,” he said, and nothing more.

  She let out her breath. “If I tell you, do you promise not to set fire to anyone’s car?”

  His eyes cut sideways. “No.”

  That startled a snort of laughter out of her. “Honest as ever.”

  She could feel his heat against her side, warm and comforting. After the forced small talk and glaring auras of the speed dating event, his quiet presence was restful. She could sink into his silence like a featherbed.

  She sighed again, surrendering. “It’s stupid. I went to this speed-dating event…well, I guess you knew that.” She hesitated, glancing up at him. “Were you there?”

  His chin dipped in a fractional nod. He still didn’t look down at her.

  Friends, she told herself, commanding her silly heart to slow. Just friends. Of course a friend would be worried, after what happened on my last date. I’d be shadowing me too. It doesn’t mean anything.

  “Thank you,” she said, meaning it. “For looking out for me, I mean. Lord knows I don’t have a good track record in men. Though it turns out you needn’t have bothered.” Despite her best efforts, her voice wavered a little, her bottom lip trembling. “It was a complete wash. No one was interested in me.”

  He didn’t say anything for a moment. “That is not true.”

  If he’d been lurking just out of sight, perhaps he’d seen her so-called dates flirting with her. He had no way of knowing that they’d just been pretending. She’d been fooled, and she’d been sitting at the same table, after all.

  “It is. They were all just taking pity on me, being polite.” Oh, for heaven’s sake, she was going to start crying again. She fumbled for her tissue, her voice thickening. “If they’d actually been interested, they would have put my name down at the end.”

  “They would have done.” Ash’s voice sounded strange, rasping, as though each word was fighting free of his throat against his will. “If they’d remembered you.”

  Rose stared at him, caught off-guard with her tissue half
way to her face. “What?”

  Ash turned his head away. “They did not remember meeting you. Because I burned their memory of doing so.”

  “What?” Rose stopped dead. Grabbing his upper arm, she hauled him round to face her. “Ash! Why on earth—?”

  All the breath slammed out of her, her back hitting the rough brick wall. For a second, the world spun, her mind struggling to catch up with the sudden motion.

  Ash’s hands bracketed her head, his muscled forearms tense. The dark flames of his eyes filled her vision.

  “I burned away their desire to stop them from choosing you.” He was so close that his breath brushed her lips. “Because I could not bear the thought that you might choose one of them in return.”

  His intense heat enclosed her. He held himself the barest inch away, his body not quite making contact with her own. The bitter scent of scorched rock rose from where his hands pressed against the wall.

  Not our mate! cried her swan.

  She brought her hands up to his chest—but not to push him away. His rigid muscles trembled under her palms. She felt the wild hammering of his heart, echoing her own.

  “I only want you, Ash.” she whispered. “I will only ever want you.”

  Fisting her hands in his shirt, she pulled him closer, banishing that last inch of space. Her swan’s protest was lost in flame. Heat rushed through her, setting every part of her body on fire. If he hadn’t been pressing her so hard against the wall, she would have fallen, utterly consumed.

  “Rose.” He said her name like it was the air he needed to breathe, like rain after drought, like his very life. He bent his head, his mouth seeking hers. “Rose.”

  Blindly, she turned her face to his, opening to him like a flower to the sun. She was on fire with need, wanting his lips against hers, his body in hers.

  He pulled back just before their lips met. She made a desperate, inarticulate sound, winding her hands round his neck, stretching up to him, but he held firm, not letting her close that last tiny gap.

  “Rose,” he said again. He leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

  Chapter 8

  Past

  20 years ago…

  “This isn’t safe. I shouldn’t have left.” Blaze paced back and forth across the small motel room, hands tucked under his arms as though he was scared to touch anything. Even from several feet away, Rose could feel the searing heat radiating from him. “I should go back.”

  “The only reason you should ever go back is to burn that terrible place to the ground,” she said, busy rummaging through her first aid kit. “Now let me see that arm.”

  He shook his head with a tight, sharp motion, his shoulders hunching even further. “No. You mustn’t touch me. I’m burning up, I’m not in control—”

  “Blaze,” she said, cutting across his rising voice. Going over to him, she held out her hands. “You’re my mate. You can’t hurt me.”

  He stared at her outstretched hands for a moment, the rapid rise and fall of his chest betraying his agitation. He was still shirtless, dressed only in plain army-issue pants. There hadn’t exactly been time to stop off at a mall to pick him up some clothes.

  After their escape, Rose had led him straight back to the motel where she’d been staying, a couple of hours’ flight away from the secret base. It was just as well Blaze seemed to be able to do the mythic shifter trick of taking his clothes with him when he shifted, otherwise he would have been stuck naked. None of her clothes were going to fit him, given that his shoulders were about twice as wide as hers.

  Right now those impressive muscles were rock-solid, wound tight with near-panic. Rose longed to touch him, to soothe away his tension, but she made herself keep still. Holding his gaze steadily, she waited.

  Gradually, his breathing slowed. His tongue flicked over his lips, moistening them. With a final deep, shuddering sigh, he took her hands.

  She closed her fingers around his, not too tight, savoring the hot roughness of his callused skin. He caught his breath as she raised his hands to her lips. She softly kissed his knuckles, and felt the shiver that ran through him.

  “There,” she said gently. “See? Now come here.”

  He didn’t resist as she tugged him down to sit on the bed. Fighting the desire to push him flat down onto his back and straddle him, Rose knelt down instead, reaching for a packet of antiseptic wipes.

  She tried to be as gentle as she could, but his breath still hissed between his teeth as she cleaned the dried blood from his right arm. She bit her lip as the extent of the wound was revealed.

  His tattoo—or binding, as he’d called it—was completely gone. Raw, livid flesh marked where it had been, spiraling up his arm from wrist to elbow. The burn-mark seemed clean, but she couldn’t see any sign of shifter-fast healing starting to knit the skin together.

  “Maybe we should get you to a hospital,” she said, worried.

  He flexed his fingers experimentally. His jaw clenched, but he shook his head. “It looks worse than it is. Just bind it up.”

  “Are you sure? It’s going to leave a nasty scar if we don’t get it treated properly.”

  “Better a scar than getting caught. Corbin has connections with more than just the military. I imagine there’s already a nation-wide alert going out.”

  “Let them search,” Rose said stoutly, though her stomach clenched in apprehension. “They won’t find us.”

  His free hand cupped her cheek. For a moment, the Phoenix looked out at her from his dark eyes. “If they do, they’ll regret it.”

  “Why didn’t you free yourself before?” she asked as she started to wind a bandage around his arm.

  “I couldn’t. The binding stopped me from using my powers, unless Corbin allowed me to.” He fell silent for a moment, staring down at his arm as though it belonged to someone else. “I used to try to break it. When I was too little to know better. Sometimes Corbin would drain my power, stop my rages, prevent me from hurting myself. And sometimes he…didn’t. Eventually I learned that I couldn’t break it, and stopped trying.”

  “You broke it now, though.”

  “They threatened you,” he said, very softly.

  She glanced up at him. He was watching her intently, with utter focus. A thrill ran through her at the memory of how glorious he’d been, rising like the sun from the wreckage of the prison. Even now, she could feel the sheer, raw power beating through his veins.

  “Why aren’t you afraid of me?” he asked. He appeared genuinely baffled. “I’m the Phoenix.”

  “You keep saying that as though it’s a curse,” Rose said, tucking in the edges of the bandage. “Whatever your animal, you’re a shifter. Just like me.”

  “I’m not, though.” He hesitated for a moment. “You were born with your swan.”

  It wasn’t quite a question. She nodded anyway.

  “I’m different. The Phoenix is different.” His free hand came up to touch the center of his chest absently, as though he wasn’t really aware of the motion. “There’s only one. Eternal, forever reborn. When one host dies, the Phoenix flies to another. To someone that’s…suitable fuel. A soul that can burn bright enough to sustain the undying flame.”

  She stared at him. “Do you remember them? Your other lives?”

  He shook his head. “It’s not like that. The Phoenix is eternal, not me. I’m just the latest in a long line of hosts. The Phoenix came to me when I was very small. Five or six, I think. I don’t really remember. Fortunately, Corbin found me not long after.”

  “Fortunately?”

  His arm muscles went rigid under her hands. “Fortunately for everyone else. The Phoenix isn’t a mere beast, Rose. It’s a force of nature, ravenous, the wildfire to end all wildfires. If it had its way, it would burn down the world. All it wants is to destroy.”

  “Does it?” Rose leaned forward a little, forcing him to meet her gaze. “The warlocks were driving those poor shifters mad, Blaze
. Is your animal really that angry, that dangerous, or was it just goaded past the point of endurance?”

  He was silent.

  “I believed Corbin when he said it needed to be bound,” he said at last.

  “Well, everything he ever told you was a lie.” Rose covered his hand with her own, gripping it tight. “You aren’t dangerous, and neither is your animal. There’s no evil in you.”

  There was no fire in his eyes now. They were pure human, dark and vulnerable, showing her the tormented depths of his soul.

  “How can you be so sure?” His voice was the barest whisper.

  “I’m your mate,” she said, surprised that he could even ask. Then she groaned out loud, smacking herself in the forehead. “And I still haven’t told you what that means, have I?”

  The faintest shadow of a smile crossed his haunted face. “I’m beginning to suspect it’s fairly important.”

  She sat back on her heels, opening her mouth to explain—and found herself stuck. No one had ever told her about mates. It was just…a thing that all shifters knew, bone deep, in the marrow of their souls.

  How could she explain mates to him, when he’d never known even a scrap of human kindness? All his life had been a lie, a prison built as much around his mind as his body. How could she make him understand with mere words what he was to her?

  Don’t use words, then, her swan said, pragmatically.

  “You’re smiling,” Blaze said, looking a little uncertain.

  “My swan made a good suggestion,” she said, her smile widening. Bracing her hands on his taut thighs, she pushed herself to her feet. “Sometimes our animals are much wiser than we are.”

  He drew in a soft breath as she stepped close to him, between his braced legs. She was taller than him in this position. He had to tip his head back to search her face. His eyes were pools of black, just the barest ring of deep brown showing around his dilated pupils. Fire kindled in their depths as she leaned in close.