Wildfire Unicorn

by Zoe Chant

  “It’s okay, little guy.” She sat down on an empty dog cage, stroking the rat with her free hand. “There, see? It’s quieter now. You’re safe here.”

  Slowly, the rat’s knotted muscles relaxed. Its jaw relaxed a tiny fraction. Whiskers wriggled as it tested the air.

  Thankfully, all it would be able to scent was disinfectant and laundry soap. The most recent batch of injured animals had been transferred to proper medical facilities this morning, for better treatment than the emergency rescue team could provide. She was glad that all the critical-care cages were empty. The last thing the poor rat needed at the moment was a distressed, whimpering dog or complaining cat in the background.

  “Nothing to be scared of, sweetie.” She kept her voice soft and low. Claw by claw, the rat relaxed. “No predators or nasty humans here. Just you and me—”

  Someone knocked on the trailer door.

  The rat promptly redoubled its death grip on her arm.

  Candice very much felt like biting too. Preferably the idiot who had just ignored the DO NOT DISTURB - INJURED ANIMALS sign prominently posted outside the trailer.

  Sheltering the rat in the crook of her arm, she flung open the door. “This had better be an emergency—whoa.”

  The man on her doorstep was the most beautiful person of any gender she’d ever seen. If he hadn’t been standing right in front of her, she would have sworn he had to be Photoshopped.

  His short, spiky hair was a startling platinum blond, moonlight touched with the faintest hint of gold. No question of it not being his natural color—his eyebrows and eyelashes were the same ethereal shade. A streak of ash on the side of his face only emphasized the perfection of his razor-sharp cheekbones.

  Even dressed in soot-stained, bulky turn outs, he looked like he’d stepped off the cover of GQ. He should have been plastered across twenty-foot billboards advertising exorbitantly expensive men’s cologne—Wildfire, by Chanel—not standing in the middle of a disaster zone.

  “I’m terribly sorry to bother you,” he started. Even his accent was ravishing. He sounded as though he’d grown up in a Jane Austen novel, all cultured English courtesy. “But I—“

  Their eyes met.

  “I,” he stuttered. “You.”

  Familiar irritation swamped attraction. She heaved a sigh.

  “Let’s get this over with.” Deliberately, she turned her head so that he could get a good look at the full extent of her scars. “It was a fire, it was a long time ago, yes, I know plastic surgeons can do amazing things these days. No, I can’t afford it. Yes, I know about crowdfunding, and I haven’t the slightest interest—I’d much rather people donated money to animal rescue charities. If that covers all your questions, can we move on?”

  Normally that was enough to make people blush and look away, mumbling apologies. He, however, just kept on staring at her.

  “Hello?” She snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Earth to whoever you are?”

  He blinked at last, jerking back. As well he might, given that she’d just brandished a rat at him.

  “Oh no.” She withdrew her arm hastily. “I’m so sorry!”

  “I, ah.” The man’s throat worked. He was still staring at her. “That’s quite all right.”

  “I wasn’t talking to you.” She cuddled the rat back against her chest, dropping her voice into a soothing croon. “Poor little guy, I forgot you were there. I’m sorry I flung you about like that.”

  The firefighter’s eyes flickered from her face at last, dropping to the rat attached to her arm. His whole body tensed.

  She shot him a death glare. “Shut up and stay still,” she said, still in sing-song baby tones. “I need to calm him down before I can help you.”

  The man jerked his chin in the direction of the rat. He seemed to have his own hands full as well—his arms were wrapped around his torso, supporting something bundled under his jacket. “But it’s hurting you.”

  “Not really,” Candice lied. “He barely got through my glove. I’m fine.”

  “I’m a paramedic.” The man shifted his hidden bundle, freeing up one arm. “Please, let me help.”

  “Stop it,” Candice hissed, trying to shelter the rat. “You’ll only upset him—“

  The words died on her tongue. The rat’s ears were up, whiskers bristling in the man’s direction. As he reached for the rodent, it gladly relinquished its grip on her arm, swarming up his instead.

  The man chirruped at the rat, his supermodel features softening into a gentle, genuine smile. “There’s a fine fellow. Where would you like me to put him?”

  The sight of him cuddling a fluffy animal had melted her higher brain functions. And her ovaries as well.

  Candice firmly reminded herself that he was almost certainly an asshole. Good-looking guys never had to work on developing a winning personality.

  “Uh.” She managed to drag her attention away from those strong, sensitive hands and back onto more important matters. “We don’t have any rodent cages in here—this trailer is our examination and treatment center. I’ll need to take him over to the tent where we’re keeping the smaller animals until we can get them taken to a local shelter.”

  “I’ll just pop him up here for now, then.” He lifted the animal to his shoulder. It snuggled against his neck, pink tail curling around the pale, smooth column of his throat.

  Candice had never been jealous of a rat before.

  The man ducked his head, looking at her sidelong. It was a curiously shy, endearing expression, as though he wasn’t quite sure of his welcome.

  Which was nonsense. A man who looked like he did would be welcome anywhere, anytime. Even with a rat on his shoulder.

  He would definitely be welcome in her bed tonight, for example. Or on the examination table, or up against the nearest wall, right here and now…

  Candice gave herself a mental slap. He was eying her like that because of her scars, obviously. The livid burn marks stretching over the right side of her face always made people nervous. They never knew where to look.

  The man held out a now rat-free hand. “Allow me to introduce myself. Wystan Silver, at your service. I’m with the Thunder Mountain Hotshots.”

  Looked like a Greek god, sounded like a Regency aristocrat, good with animals and he was an elite wildland firefighter?

  Clearly the man was an axe murderer in his spare time. No one was that perfect unless they were hiding something.

  “Candice Ayres.” She pulled off her glove to give him a firm handshake. A strange electric jolt shot through her as their palms met. “I’m the senior Animal Control officer here.”

  She started to let go again, but Wystan’s fingers tightened, stopping her. He turned her hand over, revealing the neat puncture marks in the side of her wrist.

  She caught her breath as he brushed his thumb lightly over her skin. Not from pain—he was being careful not to touch the wound itself—but from the sheer awareness of his presence. Just that tiny amount of contact had every nerve in her body sparking.

  She had got to get a grip on her hormones.

  Wystan frowned, bending down to inspect the bite more closely. “This needs medical attention.”

  “I won’t say no, if you’re offering.” Candice raised an eyebrow at him. “But haven’t you got something else you need to give me first?”

  “Oh,” he breathed, lifting his head. “Yes.”

  His eyes were startlingly green, the color of new spring leaves. This close, she could see shadows in them, and secrets. She felt like she’d stumbled into a hidden forest glade, lush and wild, where no one had ever set foot before.

  Right. She definitely needed to get laid.

  She cleared her throat, jerking her chin at the wriggling lump under his jacket. “I meant, whatever animal you’ve got hidden under there. Assuming that is an animal, and not an alarming mobile stomach tumor.”

  A faint flush crept over those sculpted cheekbones. He straightened quickly, releasing her hand. “Er. Y
es. But it’s a bit…unusual.”

  “Buddy, a nice little old lady once asked us to visit her house because she was worried her ‘babies’ would be lonely while she was in hospital. Turned out she was keeping fourteen fully-grown alligators in her basement.” Candice shrugged. “Trust me, I’ve seen it all in this job.”

  “Ah.” Wystan’s arms curved protectively around his abdomen, like a pregnant woman cradling her bump. “I am fairly certain you won’t have seen this before. Perhaps you should sit down.”

  Oh. There was the flaw. He was a patronizing ass.

  Pity.

  Still a piece of man-candy she could lick for hours, mind.

  “Don’t tell me how to do my job.” She grabbed the dangling tag of his jacket zipper. “Nothing you’ve got under there could possibly surprise me.”

  Chapter 3

  He was so caught up in the wondrous beauty of his mate’s eyes, he didn’t register what her hands were doing until it was too late.

  With a firm jerk, she pulled his zip down. His jacket fell open, revealing everything.

  He froze.

  Candice froze.

  The baby unicorn popped up like an adorable, fluffy version of the chest-bursting monster from Alien.

  Her body was still swathed in his t-shirt, but her incriminating head was on full display. She’d woken up when Callum had dropped them off at the edge of the camp, and had been increasingly wriggly ever since. There was nothing quite like trying to do a nonchalant walk through a crowd of mundanes while you were being repeatedly head butted in the chest by an annoyed unicorn.

  Now her pointed ears pricked up, swiveling in Candice’s direction. The firefly glow of her tiny horn brightened.

  “Er,” Wystan said, as Candice’s jaw dropped. “I can explain.”

  “Okay, I admit, I wasn’t prepared for this,” Candice said faintly. “I think I’m going to need a minute here.”

  He wondered how he could possibly catch her if she swooned, given that his arms were fully occupied with what was now an unhelpfully enthusiastic unicorn. If the worst came to the worst, he’d just have to try to dive to the ground ahead of her in order to cushion her fall.

  “Take deep breaths,” he urged, watching her pupils for any sign that she was going into shock. “In through your nose. Hold. Out through your mouth. Sit down if you feel light-headed.”

  His effort to calm her succeeded, albeit in an unexpected way. Her dazed expression sharpened into annoyance.

  “Oh, get over yourself.” Suddenly all business, she plucked the bundle of unicorn from his arms. “You aren’t that dazzling. Now let’s see what we’ve got here. Hi, baby. Aren’t you a cutie?”

  She plopped the baby unicorn down onto the examination table. All brisk efficiency, she unwrapped his shirt from the gleaming white body. Without a trace of surprise, she began to palpitate the foal’s abdomen.

  Wystan was left with both his jacket and his mouth gaping open.

  “You’re taking this very well,” he said after a moment.

  Candice didn’t look up as from her examination. “I’ve treated animals while literal wildfire swept toward me. You aren’t the hottest thing I’ve ever had to work near.”

  …What?

  Our mate is not easily impressed, his unicorn informed him. We need to remove more clothing.

  He was so addled, he actually found himself reaching for his belt buckle. Candice shot him a startled look. He hastily drew his jacket back together instead.

  “I, ah, I think there’s some confusion here,” he said, clutching at the fire-resistant fabric as though it was a string of pearls.

  Candice snorted. “Well, either I’m unknowingly starring in a very bizarre porno, or you breathed in a whole lot of fumes out on the line. I know which option I’m picking. Just sit down there a minute, okay? I’ll take you over to the first aid tents as soon as I can, but this fawn needs attention first.”

  “Fawn,” Wystan repeated blankly. “Fawn?”

  “You must be a city boy. What did you think she was, a goat?” Candice’s sharp voice softened into a maternal coo. “She’s the sweetest little baby albino deer, aren’t you cutie?”

  Wystan sank down onto a dog crate, relief washing through him. She only saw a deer. She had no idea that her patient was actually a unicorn.

  She had no idea that he was a unicorn.

  The thought was like a bucket of ice water dumped over his head. Dismay swamped relief.

  How on earth was he supposed to open this conversation?

  Actually, that isn’t a fawn, he pictured himself saying. She’s a unicorn. I’m one too. Also, by the way, you’re my one true mate and I am irrevocably, permanently, madly in love with you.

  Forget taking him to the first aid facilities. She’d be calling for some large, burly orderlies to gently escort him away in a straitjacket.

  “Poor baby. You’ve been through a rough time, haven’t you?” Candice said to the unicorn. “What shall we call you? Snowflake?”

  The baby unicorn did not look at all impressed with this suggestion. She caught Wystan’s eye, and a confused jumble of colors flashed through his head. The telepathic images were too foreign to parse, but the overall emotion was clear.

  “You know,” he said cautiously. “I’m not sure she looks like a Snowflake. She may be small, but she doesn’t strike me as delicate or fragile.”

  Golden approval shimmered through his head. Candice gave him a startled look, which turned more thoughtful as she looked down at the baby.

  “Actually, you’re right. She’s a little fighter, this one.” She pursed her lips. “So what would you name her?”

  Wystan frowned, focusing. He leaned forward to put one hand on the baby’s soft hide. The closer contact allowed him to see her telepathic message more clearly.

  “Something fierce and bright and fast,” he said slowly. “Like…Lightning? Or Comet?”

  No, that isn’t quite right. The mental picture the unicorn was insistently sending was more abstract. A concept rather than an actual thing…

  He smiled, getting it at last. “Flash. That’s her name.”

  “Flash,” Candice said, as though tasting the word. The baby gave a happy neigh, ears pricking up. “Huh. She seems to like it. You’ve got a good eye. Flash it is, then.” She straightened from her examination. “Warmth and fluids are what she needs now. Wystan, can you pass me one of those heat pads?”

  Wystan twisted around to find a stack of self-heating chemical packs neatly stacked on the shelf behind him. He cracked one between his hands to activate it, then tossed it to Candice.

  “So you think she’ll be all right?” he asked.

  Candice swaddled the heat pad in a fuzzy blanket, making up a bed in a wire-framed cage. “I’ll monitor her round the clock just to be safe, but I’m confident she’ll make a full recovery. The biggest challenge will be finding somewhere to take her.”

  His stomach lurched. In the rush to see to the baby’s immediate needs, he hadn’t stopped to consider the future.

  “All of the rescue shelters around here are only able to house domestic animals,” Candice continued, looking as concerned as he felt. “Deer are outside their remit, unfortunately. I’ll have to make some calls.”

  “Actually, I can help with that,” he said, improvising at top speed. “I have some friends who work very closely with wild animals. They’d be glad to help.”

  “Are you sure?” Candice sounded doubtful. “It’ll be a long-term commitment. She’s not going to be able to be released back into the wild, not standing out the way she does. Albino animals don’t tend to last long.”

  “It won’t be a problem,” he said firmly. “I’ll make sure she has a forever home.”

  He was determined to do everything in his power to reunite the baby with her family. But if that turned out not to be possible…he’d take care of her himself.

  Oh good. This hypothetical future conversation with Candice was getting better and better. Hello
, I’m a unicorn, your mate, and as of today I’m also unexpectedly a single dad to a four-footed daughter. Marry me?

  It was probably a bit much.

  He pushed that problem aside for now. “It might take me a little while to make arrangements. Would you mind looking after her here for a few days? I’m happy to pay for her upkeep, of course.”

  Candice broke into a smile that warmed every inch of his body. “Well, I never turn down a donation. Now, let me just get Flash here settled, and then I’ll take that rat off your shoulder. If I can. He certainly seems to have taken a shine to you.”

  He’d almost forgotten the rodent was there. The rat had dozed off, curled trustingly into the hollow of his neck.

  “Animals tend to like me.” He patted the rat absently. It made a whuffling, snuffly noise in its sleep, whiskers tickling his skin. “Runs in the family, actually. Many creatures seem to be attracted to us.”

  Candice was bustling around the trailer, gathering cartons and supplies from the shelves. She stretched over him to fetch a bottle, treating him to an exceptionally fine view between the straining buttons of her flannel shirt. As he sat in riveted attention, she flashed him a sly sideways look.

  “Mmm.” She leaned even closer, inhaling deeply through her nose. “Well, you do smell good.”

  Was she…flirting with him?

  His unicorn stamped a hoof in exasperation. She is doing everything short of turning around and lifting her tail. Of course she wants us to mount her! Right now!

  His unicorn, like all stallions, tended to have a somewhat over-inflated opinion of itself.

  She’s literally only known us for ten minutes, he silently reminded his egotistic beast. And for at least eight of those, we’ve been acting like a raving lunatic. I highly doubt that she’s overcome with lust just yet.

  Unlike himself, unfortunately.

  He tamped his animal urges down as best he could. This was difficult, given the limited floor space in the trailer. Candice kept brushing against him—no doubt inadvertently—as she went about the task of preparing a bed and bottle for the unicorn.