Bound In Fire: Phoenix Shifter Paranormal

by Erzabet Bishop

  The teeth mark hidden beneath the tattoo flared to life, igniting the mating bond and strengthening it.

  Roark’s finger thrust inside of her, urging her to new heights. She’d already come apart on him once but the next time, she wanted him to be inside of her.

  Her hand slid down his hard stomach and stopped just above the button on his jeans. Teasing him with her fingertips, she popped the button and reached for the zipper.

  “Izzy. Are you sure?” His cat was in his voice and when she met his eyes, she was pleased to see the glow of his arousal.

  She nodded, barely able to speak for wanting him. “Finish what we started.”

  He slipped his hand from her warmth and unzipped his jeans. Unhindered, his member strained against his briefs. Roark stood, divesting himself of the rest of his clothes. His cock bobbed in front of her, already moist at the tip.

  She hooked the thin panties around her thumbs and yanked them down her legs, freeing her body to his gaze.

  A flush of heat surged through her and she arched, reaching for him. The dress lay pooled around her stomach, but she didn’t want to stop to take it off. All she saw was him and the cock she wanted inside of her. Her man. Her mate.

  Roark moved between her thighs, the velvety blunt tip of him brushing against her slick opening. She shifted, widening her legs. With a single thrust, he imbedded himself inside her to the hilt.

  “Izzy…”

  He fit inside her like a lock and key, filling her up with all the things that had been stripped from her life. As he began to move, tears fell from her eyes.

  “Am I hurting you?” He asked, a horrified expression on his face as he froze.

  “No.” Her voice was thick. “I can’t believe they tried to take this from us.”

  “Never again.” He slid out and back in again, the sensation rocking her to the core. “You’re my mate. Forever and always.”

  He ground himself against her and she exploded around his length, shuddering against him as he, too, found his passion. A low growl and a grunt met her ears as a searing pain in her shoulder mixed with his final thrusts, bringing her over the edge once more.

  Roark had left his mark and now it was her turn to leave hers. The bird within her flowered, her skin radiant with flame. She held him to her as she sank her teeth into his left shoulder, running her fingers down the phoenix tattoo.

  He stiffened inside of her, hard once more as the force inside of her made herself known to his beast.

  My Izzy.

  Forever. She replied, her eyes meeting his. It was new, this hearing someone in your head and being able to speak to them in turn. It wasn’t exactly the same as it had been with Guidry but it was close.

  “Well, hello there.”

  “Mmmm.” She hooked her legs around his and shifted him so he was beneath her, his cock buried deep. The dress lay draped over him and in a flash she unzipped it and flung it onto the floor.

  A devilish smile slid over his lips as she ground her hips against him. He reached up and gripped her ass, arching his body upward so he could nip at her breasts.

  “Ride a fireman and save a horse?”

  “You read my mind.”

  Chapter Nine

  Shipton stalked the hallway of his mansion, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. It was early morning yet, the house refreshingly silent. His servants dared not comment on anything he did. Not if they wanted to keep their heads on their bodies. And, this morning, he was in an especially foul mood.

  Isobel had escaped him. The vampire Guidry and that bitch he’d seen him with had interfered. But it was no matter. Her car was still in the parking lot of the museum. This evening was to have been a complete celebration, first the exhibit and then their mating, but she never showed.

  That was the second time she had blown him off. There would not be a third. He’d taken a spin up to her office before he left, on the off chance that he had perhaps missed her. Instead, he found some interesting pieces of information.

  Denver’s phone was stashed in a cubby in her desk. He must have forgotten to collect it when they had their altercation in the curator’s office. The man had been most disagreeable about the missing Indian piece and he’d had to set him straight.

  The phone was simply too good a lure to resist. He would force her to come to him. All he needed was the perfect trap to bait the phoenix.

  Pulling the phone from his pocket, he shook his head at the man’s lack of security. “Barbaric.” A swipe of the finger located the barrage of text messages from Isobel.

  If you want to see Denver again, meet me at the museum by nine this morning. Don’t be late.

  The choice to leave the owl shifter alive had been a good one.

  He’d thought to wrest the information on the location of the ceremonial bowl from him but the more he considered his options, the more the bowl was becoming inconsequential. He needed Isobel. The bowl could rot in everlasting hell. He was out of time and he would have his mate before another male challenged his right to rule over his horde.

  His manservant appeared as he rounded the stairwell of the third floor.

  “Ah, yes, Oswald. Is everything as it should be?”

  The sallow cheeked man nodded once, his expression hard. “It is, sir. She still has a little fight in her.”

  “Good.” He peeled the shirt from his shoulders and handed it to the other man. “See that my things are laid out. I will be going out in an about an hour.”

  Oswald retreated down the hall and Shipton opened the door to his playroom. Soundproofed walls and shatterproof glass made the room his private sanctum. The cast iron bedframe with built in rings for the wrists and ankles was the icing on the cake. The bruised and bloodied female currently occupying them was indeed a delicacy he meant to savor.

  “Hello, my dear. Did you miss me?”

  He smiled as her screams were cut off from the world as the door shut behind him.

  ***

  Isobel awoke nestled in Roark’s arms, his quiet strength buoying her, even in sleep. Bitter anger at her mother for what she’d done surged through her. Ten years they could have had together. She traced the bite she’d left on his shoulder and snuggled deeper, the rise and fall of his chest a balm to her soul.

  There hadn’t been much time to consider what she’d learned from Guidry’s bite. The good and what the knowledge had cost her.

  Everything in her life had been a lie. Everything save the man lying next to her. A tear slipped from her eyes and she took a deep breath, trying to reconcile the present and the past.

  The phone hidden in the folds of her dress began to buzz and she groaned. It hurt to move, but in all the good ways. Roark grumbled at the disturbance but fell quickly back into slumber, his snores keeping her company as she rooted around for where her dress had landed.

  Pale morning light shone through the thin drapes and she reached out through her new connection to Guidry. To secure her memories, the bloodletting had gone two ways. She’d thought he would simply take from her wrist, but as he bent down to taste her, she’d seen him cut his lip with his teeth, co-mingling their blood.

  He’d taken the barrier of her physical body and broken it, merging her spirit with itself. All the memories encased in her essence had returned. But, with it, she gained knowledge of Guidry that she hadn’t expected. Unfortunately, he probably had, too. So why had he done it if he knew the risks?

  It was uncomfortable but she would find a place for it, she decided. There would be plenty of time for questions later, including some for Marlene.

  Dress in hand, she fished within the folds and came up with her phone.

  She’d expected the text from her mother, scolding her for her disappearing act, but what she didn’t expect was the message from Denver.

  Only it wasn’t.

  If you want to see Denver again, meet me at the museum by nine this morning. Don’t be late.

  Shipton.

  It had to be him. Only he would dare inva
de her office to find the phone she’d hidden in her desk.

  Fury infused her blood and she grappled with indecision. If what her friends had confirmed was right, then going into the dragon’s den was right up there with one of the worst ideas ever, but what choice did she honestly have? If Denver was alive, she could do something. With Roark at her side, she could accomplish anything.

  Isobel glanced at the thin silver watch on her wrist and her eyes widened. It was already ten after eight. She gathered up her clothes and made a mad dash for the bathroom, seriously lamenting she hadn’t brought at least a purse with her. She’d left that, along with Denver’s phone, in her office.

  The face that met hers in the mirror was tired, but there was a peace in her eyes that she hadn’t seen in a very long time and it had to do with a certain man snoring it up on the couch in the next room. He would help her get Denver back. She couldn’t ask Guidry. She reached out with the connection they now possessed and was met by an angry retort.

  Go away. Some of us are trying to get some sleep.

  Isobel bit her lip and chuckled. “Fine. I’ll leave you to it.”

  Good.

  Should she tell him about Shipton? After a moment of indecision, she decided against it. There was nothing he could do during daylight hours, and if all went according to plan, she would reason with her boss and tell him it was too late. She had a mate and there was no turning back.

  She’d found him. Her Roark. And, now, she was never going to let him go.

  Cupping some water in her palms, Isobel washed the old makeup away. She put on her dress and thought about running home to her apartment, but decided against it. There just wasn’t enough time.

  Her phone dinged once again.

  Come alone.

  The phone was heavy in her hand as she slowly opened the bathroom door and stepped onto the carpet leading back into the office. If she woke Roark, he would never let her go alone, and if she brought him what would Shipton do to Denver?

  No. Whatever had started between them happened because of some misguided arrangement between her parents and this…this dragon. No more. It was time for her to end it.

  She shoved the phone into the pocket of her dress but not before texting Marlene where she’d gone and why. If something went wrong, she might need backup. Things had happened so fast last night and all she had was a body still tingling from Roark’s lovemaking and the sting of his mark visible for all to see.

  One deep breath later, Isobel pulled herself together and hurried out the door before she could change her mind. The sound of Roark’s snores only solidified her determination to find her inner badass bird and teach that bastard boss of hers some manners. She just hoped it wasn’t too late to save her friend.

  Chapter Ten

  She was gone. The chill where her body’s warmth had been woke him. He stirred, reaching for her and instead found air. For a brief moment, he was afraid it had been an elaborate dream.

  “Izzy?”

  There was no answer. The sun beat through the thin drapes, telling him the hour was later than he normally rose. His cat paced nervously beneath his skin and he momentarily considered allowing the shift just so he would have something solid under his feet.

  He reached for his watch on the small coffee table and winced. Almost ten.

  A hard rap on the office door was the only warning before he found himself face to face with Marlene. She was carrying a paper bag and tray of coffees from the bagel shop down the street, her face set in worried lines. Kicking the door shut, she made her way into the office.

  “Where is she?” He rose from the couch, his muscles protesting in places long forgotten, suddenly remembering that he hadn’t dressed.

  “You want to find some pants there, stud?”

  “Ah. Sorry.” He reached for his jeans, shrugging into them distractedly.

  “I poked my head in a bit earlier but you two were still out like a light. Figured I’d grab us some breakfast and while I was on the way back I got this.” She handed him the phone.

  Got a text from Shipton. He has Denver. Told me to come alone. I’m sorry.

  “What?” The fuzziness of sleep disintegrated into the cold clarity of morning. His mate had left without him.

  “The fucking dragon has her? Come on.” He reached for the rest of his clothes, tugging them on unceremoniously.

  “Now hold your shit together. We don’t know where he is.”

  He was going to kill that dragon son of a bitch, and he wouldn’t need his irons to do it either. A low growl spilled from his lips, his claws itching to break free from his human bonds.

  “How?”

  Marlene laid the bag of bagels and coffee on the desk. “Here. After last night you probably need this.” She handed him a coffee.

  “You want to eat? Now?”

  She leveled him a look that sent him back a step. “I need caffeine if I’m going to figure out what to do with our friend. So do you. It will be hours before Guidry can rise to be any use, so I expect you to, what…I don’t know…rally the troops?”

  Fuck. She was right. Charging in there like an idiot wasn’t going to solve anything. If they even knew where she had gone.

  With a snap of her fingers, the container of half and half emerged from the mini fridge in the kitchen area at the back of the office and floated its way to the table.

  “Well holy hellfire. You’re a witch.”

  “So astute.” Her lips curved up in a devilish smile. “It takes fire to fight fire, wouldn’t you say?” She tore the lid off her paper cup and poured a healthy dollop of cream into the coffee. “Want some?”

  He shook his head. Too many years of drinking black, fire station coffee had ruined him for anything else. Tossing back a gulp, he grabbed a bagel and downed it.

  “I can’t risk her life. Give me a half an hour and I can bring down a fleet of firemen and cops on the museum.”

  “You’re assuming that’s where he has her.”

  Damn. He hated that she could be right about this.

  But last night, just after they’d marked each other, there was a connection. If he latched on to it, he wondered what he would find.

  “The mating bite.”

  “Exactly. See what you can get from her.” Marlene nodded and swallowed some more coffee. “I want to touch base with some more of my contacts. There are a good many witches who don’t agree with what the Bradford Coven has put you two through. And, if my guess is right, Shipton won’t be alone.”

  Her voice soft, she spoke into the phone. “Hi, this is Marlene. Can you get Carter on the phone for me?”

  A moment later he could hear the smile in her voice.

  “Carter. Hey, it’s Mar. I think I need a distraction…”

  Roark left her working at the desk and retreated back to the couch. Izzy’s scent was all over it. He sent a text to his captain and let his beast come to the surface. His mate was in danger and he would do anything and everything to help her.

  ***

  The halls of the museum were deserted. Isobel’s footsteps echoed on the marble floors announcing her arrival. One Sunday a month the museum was closed for maintenance but there were no crews here today. So where had all the cars come from? None were any she recognized. The lights were off and an eerie silence hung over the building like a shroud.

  Now that she considered the timing, there had never been a closure the day after an exhibit opening. Was it a coincidence? She thought not. Her only hope was that she could get to Denver in time to be able to make a difference.

  Roark, she called out, tugging on her mating bond. I’m sorry.

  He was probably still asleep. Resigned, she kept going.

  All was quiet. Shipton hadn’t said where to go, precisely, so she headed down the main floor toward the hallway leading to his office.

  The sound of something large sliding across marble broke the stillness.

  Isobel’s head snapped up, her eyes darting in all directions. She smoothed
her shaking hands on her thighs and forced herself to proceed. The dinosaur exhibit was just ahead, and past it, the entrance to the offices.

  But as she approached, she noticed a familiar ceremonial table in the center of the floor. She’d hoped to never see the blood stained tribute to Kali again. The Goddess was one bit of mythology she would have rather forgotten about. And it seemed she had, until Guidry helped her remember, she thought with a grimace.

  There were reasons she had stopped going to coven meetings, and not just because she was tired of the political machinations. Corrupted by the taste of power, they’d begun working with Shipton to protect their interests. Kali Ma was the Goddess of blood and fire but only the high priest could kill by spilling it in the Goddess’s name. The day she ran, she’d found out that there was a plan for her to be his mate, and a trail of bodies of girls who hadn’t survived the experience.

  So what had he been up too lately? The thought made her mouth go dry and her stomach churn. Then she remembered Guidry’s comment.

  Next to table was a large birdcage with a rather shaken owl inside. His feathers were mussed and there was blood on his left talon.

  “Denver,” she whispered, her heart breaking. What had that monster done? But joy at seeing him alive momentarily overshadowed her fear.

  The bird opened his eyes and blinked, then hunkered down into himself. Rage at what had been done to him sizzled through her gut.

  Shipton was going to pay for what he’d done.

  “I see you made it after all.” Shipton’s voice boomed across the cavernous space, startling her.

  “You broke into my office. That’s not fighting fair.”

  Where was he? It didn’t sound like he was speaking over the intercom. How she was going to fight him if it came to that, she had no idea. Everything had happened so quickly, there had been no time to ascertain if she could pull up her old fire magic or if it was lost to the ashes with her earlier life. She felt like two halves of a whole that were whip stitched together, but she couldn’t stop long enough to do more than deal with what was in front of her.