Wildfire Unicorn

by Zoe Chant

  Much as he tried to control himself, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her. He had never seen anything as perfect as the curve of her waist, or as graceful as the deft sway of her hips. He longed to press his lips to the tender nape of her neck, enticingly exposed by her short, boyish haircut.

  The haircut exposed her scars, too. He’d noticed that she made no attempt to minimize or hide the pink, shiny burn marks that ran down the right side of her face and neck. Her bold assurance was utterly intoxicating.

  He watched as her swift, capable hands settled the baby unicorn into a cozy nest. He couldn’t help imagining what it would be like to have that confident, sure touch exploring his own body…

  Wystan shifted position, surreptitiously tugging his jacket further down. There was a child present, after all.

  “There, that’s better, isn’t it?” Candice cooed to the unicorn as the baby began sucking eagerly on a propped-up bottle. “You just fill that little belly, then you can have a nice long sleep. I’ll be right here if you need anything. Now,” her tone turned more business-like as she turned back to him. “Time to see about that rat.”

  He caught her wrist as she reached for the rodent. “No. First, we need to take care of you. Or had you forgotten your injury?”

  From the dismissive glance she cast the bite mark on her arm, she had. “Eh. It’s fine. You don’t need to fuss over me.”

  “Actually I do,” he said firmly, standing up so that they could trade positions. “It’s my job.”

  She made a face, but took a seat on the dog crate. “Oh, right. You mentioned that you’re a paramedic.”

  “Among other things.” He unclipped his emergency medical kit from his belt and crouched down.

  Candice scrutinized him as he pulled on a pair of sterile surgical gloves. “Wystan, are you sure you don’t need treatment? You’re still looking a little dazed.”

  “Truly, I’m perfectly well.” He essayed a wry smile up at her. “It’s just turning out to be rather an eventful day.”

  “Heh. I bet.” Candice held out her arm, allowing him to inspect the bite. “Where did you find Flash, anyway? Somewhere out on the front lines?”

  “Yes. My crew are deployed on the east advance today. Area 15B.”

  Candice’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s a long way out. How did you manage to sweet-talk someone into air-rescuing a deer? Flash your abs at them?”

  He chuckled, thinking of Callum. “Actually I did, though I highly doubt that influenced him. I have a friend who has a softer heart than he cares to admit. He gave me a lift. Now, my apologies, but this may sting a bit.”

  Candice’s breath hissed between her teeth as he dabbed the bite with an antiseptic wipe. “How come no doctor will ever just flat-out admit that something is going to hurt like hell?”

  Wystan clenched his jaw, wrestling his protective instincts. He had to cause his mate discomfort if he was to properly treat her injury.

  Settle down, he snapped at his furious unicorn. I don’t like it any more than you do. If you don’t want me to hurt her, you heal her.

  His unicorn bared its teeth, but grudgingly subsided.

  Well, that settled that question for once and for all. If even an injury to his mate didn’t unlock his theoretical healing ability, nothing ever would.

  So what did he have to offer her?

  “Oh, what the heck,” Candice muttered while he was still brooding over that one. “Wystan, sorry if I’ve misread things, but if I don’t at least ask, I’m going to be kicking myself for the rest of the week. If you aren’t working tonight, do you want to come back here?”

  His glum mood lifted at the prospect of being able to do something for her. “Of course. I’d be delighted. I can watch over the baby while you rest.”

  Candice gave him a level look. One that clearly said she was once again wondering whether all his brain cells had fallen out his ears.

  “No, Wystan,” she said, enunciating very slowly and clearly. “I’m asking if you’d like to have sex with me.”

  Chapter 4

  Oh, balls.

  From the expression on Wystan’s face, she had misread the situation. He couldn’t have looked more stunned if she’d proposed a threesome with the rat.

  Embarrassment flooded through her, quickly followed by irritation. If he hadn’t actually meant to flirt with her, he could have had the courtesy to keep his eyes on her face rather than her butt. And fastened his damn jacket.

  The faded yellow material was still hanging open, displaying a mouth-watering slice of his perfect torso. With an effort, she yanked her eyes away from his chiseled muscles.

  “Never mind.” She pulled her arm out of his slack hands, standing up. “Thanks for the bandage. You should probably get going now.”

  “No, wait!“ He shot to his own feet, waking up the rat on his shoulder. The rodent squeaked in displeasure, scrabbling to maintain its perch. “I’m sorry, I’m not quite sure I—are you asking if I’d like to go on a date with you?”

  Wow. No wonder he looked so spooked. Candice wasn’t quite sure how he’d managed to misinterpret her that badly, but at least it meant she still had a chance.

  “Not at all.” She faced him head-on, raising her chin. It was something of a struggle to keep her own attention above the level of his clavicle. “Look, I say what I want and mean exactly what I say. I’ve got no interest in relationships or any of that commitment crap. One night stands suit me just fine. I’m thirsty, you’re a hot snack, and I would like to take you back to my tent and bang you like a drum. After that we can happily go our separate ways. No strings, no catches. So what do you say?”

  His eyes had gone darker throughout her speech, alarmed confusion giving way to something more feral. For a moment, he was absolutely still, all his attention focused on her as if no one else existed in the whole world.

  Then he moved, with the lightning speed of a pouncing cat. Before she quite knew what was happening, he had her pinned against the examination table, his hard body pressed against hers.

  Her ovaries were A-OK with this development.

  She could hear the ragged edge to his breath, and see his pulse leaping in the hollow of his throat. The heat in his gaze stripped her to her core.

  Hot damn, she thought inanely. It takes real talent to look that sexy while wearing a rat.

  “I do not,” he growled, “do one-night stands.”

  “Well,” she said, rather breathlessly. “We should all try new experiences sometimes.”

  An electric thrill ran over her as his eyes darkened even further. His hands were braced against the table, his rigid arms bracketing her. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her lips—

  “I hate to interrupt,” Bethany said from the door, “but I really need a pack of feline worming tablets.”

  Candice yelped, shoving hard at Wystan’s chest, which had no effect whatsoever. For all his prettiness, the man was built like a solid brick wall.

  Wystan had a rather dazed expression, as though he’d just woken up from a drunken coma and was still trying to remember who he was and how legs worked. He glanced around at Bethany, and abruptly leaped backward, disengaging himself from Candice.

  “Er.” Wystan cleared his throat. “Hello. I was just, ah…”

  “Yes, I can see that. And with a rat, too. Kinky.” Smirking from ear to ear, Bethany reached past him to grab a packet from the shelves. “Don’t mind me. Just passing through. I’ll let you get back to…what you were doing.”

  Wystan went a spectacular red from throat to forehead. “I wasn’t—we weren’t—“

  “Then I’m highly disappointed,” Bethany informed him. She plucked the rat off his shoulder on her way back out the door. “That woman needs more fun in her life. Don’t forget to wipe the examination table down with the antiseptic spray afterward, Candice.”

  Bethany left with a cheery wave. Wystan stared after her, his face frozen in an expression of mute horror.

  “She’s go
ing to be teasing me about this for years.” Candice sighed, then shrugged. “Still, given that she already assumes that we’re screwing like bunnies at this very second, we can’t do any more damage to my reputation. Where were we?”

  She reached for Wystan, but he stepped out of reach. He scrubbed his hands across his face as though to wipe away his blush.

  “Not like this,” he muttered, expression hidden. “It shouldn’t be like this.”

  Need still beat between her thighs, but Candice had to admit that he had a point. The cramped space wasn’t exactly ideal for the sort of acrobatics she had in mind.

  Not to mention the audience. The baby deer was watching them both with interest, sucking on her bottle with the air of someone munching through a bucket of popcorn.

  Candice’s hormones put up a valiant fight, and lost. Sanity reasserted itself.

  “Yeah, this isn’t the time or the place.” With an effort, she pulled herself back together. “Sorry, but I’ve got to get back to work. I guess you’ve got to get back to your crew too.”

  Wystan dropped his hands with a sigh. He was still rather pink around the ears, but he’d reassembled his air of self-controlled, untouchable courtesy. His green eyes were steady, revealing nothing of the thoughts behind them.

  “Actually, I’m at a bit of a loose end,” he said. “My crew are still out on the fire line. My lift has already headed back that way, so I don’t have transport. If I set out now on foot, by the time I catch up with them they’ll already be returning to camp. Perhaps there’s something I could do to help here?”

  There were always more jobs than volunteers. Candice started to say an automatic Yes—and hesitated. She was abruptly aware of just how much she would like him to be hanging around the trailer the rest of the afternoon.

  “Thanks, but no.” She picked up a clipboard, pretending to be deeply engrossed in an inventory of dog food. “You go enjoy an afternoon off.”

  Even without looking at him, she could feel his gaze lingering on her. “Are you certain there’s nothing I can do for you?”

  Oh, she could definitely think of a few things. More than a few things.

  Down, girl, she told herself firmly. Deliberately, she looked at her own reflection in the polished steel surface of the examination table. The scar across her face was better than a bucket of ice cold water. Keep your distance. You know better than to get too involved.

  “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t sleep with volunteer charity workers or colleagues,” she said honestly. “Too much potential to get weird. Let’s keep business and pleasure separate, okay? Assuming you’re still interested.”

  She jumped as his hand touched her shoulder. She looked up into his face, and the magnetic depths of his eyes. Her pulse stuttered at the wicked, dangerous curve of his mouth.

  “Oh,” he breathed. “Yes.”

  Chapter 5

  My mate. I’ve met my mate.

  The thought echoed endlessly through his head all afternoon. Wystan mechanically bandaged minor burns and treated sunstroke at the first aid tent, lending a hand wherever he could. He smiled and soothed and made his patients feel better, and no one ever guessed that his mind was miles away.

  Or, more precisely, about two hundred yards away.

  My mate. She’s my mate.

  It was sheer torture to be separated from her even by a few rows of tents. Her absence was like an amputated limb. His skin felt raw, every touch that wasn’t hers painful. The constant noise and bustle of fire camp grated on his senses. It seemed unthinkable that everyone could be carrying on as normal, when everything had changed.

  My mate. I’ve met my mate.

  As the hours dragged on, Wystan seizing on any excuse to walk through the camp, just in the hopes of seeing her. A few times, he was rewarded—catching sight of Candice striding from trailer to the tents enclosing the animal cages; conferring with a local ranger; briskly directing a pack of volunteers. He hoarded each stolen glimpse as greedily as a dragon gloating over gold.

  They’d agreed to meet at eight, after Candice had finished her shift. It was too much to think about what might—would—happen after that. His unicorn was a frenzy of impatience and longing. It was all Wystan could do to restrain his beast. He fixed his mind on the time, counting down each minute.

  Soon, he promised his unicorn. We’ve waited a lifetime for this. Just a little longer.

  As dusk fell, he found himself repeatedly looking around, feeling a phantom sensation like a hand tapping on his shoulder. He was so caught up in his inner turmoil, it took him some time to realize Rory was trying to contact him telepathically. Welcoming the distraction, he opened his mind to the griffin shifter.

  *About time,* Rory said in his head. *It isn’t usually this hard to get your attention. What’s wrong? Is the baby all right?*

  *She’s fine,* Wystan replied silently. *She’s in good hands. I’d rather discuss it in person, though. Are you on your way back to base?*

  *We’re at the base,* Rory said wryly. *I’ve been yelling at your thick skull for the past half hour, ever since we got back in telepathic range. We’re just parking now.*

  Wystan hurriedly finished off his paperwork for his last patient, scrawling his signature at the bottom of the forms. “My crew’s due back in,” he said as he handed it over to the medic in charge of the first aid tent. “My apologies, but I have to go rejoin them.”

  The woman gave him a grateful, weary smile. “Thanks for helping out this afternoon. Anytime you aren’t needed on the line, feel free to drop by. We can always use another pair of hands.”

  A pair of hands. Wystan maintained his smile, giving no indication of how the words cut. Anyone else with a minimum of medical training could have replaced him today. Lacking unicorn magic, he was simply a moderately useful warm body.

  And is that all I am to Candice? he wondered as he left the first aid tent. A body to warm her bed, hands to give her pleasure for a night?

  She had been alarmingly honest about her desires. He admired that directness, even though it had utterly floored him at the time. She’d been clear about what she expected from him tonight—a casual encounter, nothing more.

  His unicorn flared its nostrils in eagerness at the thought. Yes. Claim her. Show her how we will fulfil her every need.

  Wystan grimaced as he made his way through the sprawling lines of tents and trailers, heading for the edge of fire camp. He wished he shared his animal’s unshakable self-confidence. Given his lack of experience, even satisfying Candice’s needs on a purely physical level was far from certain. He was just grateful that at least she clearly knew what she was doing.

  We will please her, his unicorn insisted. And sharing our body with her will bring her closer. She will begin to see what we offer. She will desire us for more than a single night.

  He hoped that was true. He needed that to be true. He couldn’t imagine living without Candice’s bright, fierce presence in his life. From the moment he’d first met her eyes, she’d claimed his heart. Even now, he felt off-balance, as though he’d left his center of gravity back in her trailer.

  The Thunder Mountain Hotshots had pitched their tents some distance away from the edge of the main encampment, as was their habit on any large job like this. Wystan had sometimes heard the humans in the crew grumbling to about always being last in line for breakfast, but not within earshot of Superintendent Buck. The fire chief picked the camp site, and his word was final.

  The human firefighters of B and C squads didn’t know that Buck selected the remotest sites out of consideration, not sadism. Big crowds were hard on all kinds of shifter, not just unicorns. Superhuman senses made it difficult to sleep in the middle of a sprawling encampment. For all his grumpy, surly manner, Buck always took care of his crew—human and otherwise.

  At the moment, a casual observer would have been hard pressed to tell that. As Wystan approached the camp, he could hear that the Superintendent was in full creative flow.

  “—
Will fashion your fuzzy butts into an attractive quilt for my guest bed, understand? You mouthbreathers get so much as a flicker of a bright idea briefly illuminating the cavernous voids you call skulls, you pick up the motherloving radio and check with me first! I decide if and when anyone comes off the line, not you second-rate shaved monkeys!”

  Buck’s stocky, grey-haired form was pacing up and down in front of a hangdog-looking line of shifters. Rory stood a little in front of the rest of A-squad, his broad shoulders braced as though he could physically shield his squad from the Superintendent’s wrath. Behind him, Joe, Blaise, and Edith were wearing varying degrees of guilt. Two figures were notable by their absence.

  *Where’s Callum and Fenrir?* Wystan sent silently to Rory.

  Rory flicked him a pained glance over Buck’s shoulder. *Still out in the woods. I asked them to search for any sign of the baby unicorn’s parents.*

  Wystan winced as a particularly inventive bit of invective from Buck. The Superintendent had a remarkable ability to blister the air without actually swearing. *And you ‘forgot’ to clear it with the chief first?*

  *I thought it would be easier to ask forgiveness than permission.* Rory returned to his stoic endurance of Buck’s tongue-lashing. *In retrospect, that may have been an error.*

  The human firefighters of B and C squads were creeping around in the background, earnestly pretending to be completely engrossed in putting equipment away. No one wanted to catch Buck’s eye when he was in this sort of mood. The chief’s ire had a tendency spill over onto innocent bystanders.

  The Superintendent swung around, fixing Wystan with a ferocious glare. As always, Wystan felt his inner beast back off a little, head bowing in respectful acknowledgement of the man’s sheer authority. Although Buck was, as far as Wystan knew, completely human, he exuded enough alpha power to cow a dozen unruly werewolves.