Her Photographer Phoenix_A Paranormal Romance

by Alice Summerfield

  When she thought he had been in danger, she had been so frightened for him. And when he had proven to be all right, her relief had been nearly overwhelming. She needed Benton to be safe and well and happy, and if that wasn’t part of loving someone, then what was?

  By the time that they finished lunch, Ellis was antsy to return to camp – and Benton. Where normally she went straight from the lake to change into her swimsuit, today Ellis went straight from the lake to the dining tent.

  Benton was there, an apron slung over his borrowed clothes as he worked on dinner. He looked up when Ellis burst into the kitchen.

  “Benton!” she caroled, and he grinned, his brilliantly blue eyes as warm as a firebird’s feathers and bright with welcome.

  “Come to keep me company?” he asked, happier now, and Ellis nodded.

  “If you like,” she said, suddenly feeling shy. It was ridiculous to feel shy now, but she’d never had someone who felt their whole day had improved just because she had come to find him.

  So Ellis sat nearby and they talked, while Benton made dinner for everyone.

  “So why’d you become a photographer?” asked Ellis eventually.

  “For the adventures! And the memorable moments! And the chance to see everywhere twice, while looking for the one person that I’d want to go everywhere again with!”

  Ellis beamed. She liked that her soul mate was so adventurous!

  It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if he thought that maybe he’d found that one person – someone with brown eyes, brown hair, a big mouth, and big boobs, not that that described anyone in particular. Just, you know, someone like that. Although come to think of it, she looked exactly like that – but all Ellis said was, “But why’d you take this particular job? You never did say.”

  “For the money,” answered Benton. “It was too good to pass up. I’d be getting paid to go somewhere that I’d never been to see things that few people get to see for themselves and have memorable moments to treasure forever.”

  “And how’s that working out for you?” inquired Ellis pertly, then grinned when Benton looked her up and down. He leered at her, playfully.

  “So far, so good! I like the company at least.”

  Ellis sat up straighter.

  “The company likes you too.”

  Benton smiled at her again.

  “So why study birds at all? Didn’t you have any other favorite animals as a child?”

  “I did, but birds were always my very best favorite. When I was a very little girl, I found a chick that had fallen out of his nest. I took him home and cared for him, even though everyone said that he was probably going to die. Luckily, he didn’t – it would have been too sad if he had. I would have cried my eyes out – and he grew up to be a crow. He used to nest in my bookshelf and fly to my hand when I held it out just so.”

  “Yeah? What happened to him?”

  “He met a cute lady crow, and he abandoned me to set up shop with her in my parents’ backyard. Some of their descendents probably still live around there.”

  “And your parents were fine with a crow living in your bookshelf?”

  “By the time that they realized that Franklin hadn’t died, it was far too late to take him away, much less complain about where he was living.”

  Benton laughed.

  “How long did it take them to realize that your crow wasn’t dead?”

  “Four or five months?” Ellis shrugged. “They didn’t come into that wing of the house very often.”

  “That wing of the house?” echoed Benton, disbelief etching his tone. “How big was your parents’ house?”

  “Big enough,” said Ellis carelessly.

  “And yet, you now sleep in an actual tent.”

  “Tastes vary. But what about your family?”

  “Well, there are five of us,” said Benton, “my parents, my brother, and my sister. Our house was probably tiny compared to yours, but it was big enough for us. I look like my mother. My brother and sister look like our dad – black hair, brown eyes, short.”

  “Actually short or just short compared to you?” asked Ellis, and Benton flashed her a quick smile.

  “Mostly just compared to me,” he admitted, and Ellis laughed.

  “Oof, I’m hot,” said Ellis. “I need to go cool down.”

  “In the spring?” asked Benton, and Ellis could feel how unhappy that thought made him.

  “Yes,” she said slowly.

  “Maybe you could take a shower instead?”

  Ellis grimaced.

  The showers were perfectly functional, but they were just buckets with holes drilled in their bottoms and boards to block those holes. To use a shower, a person had to fill the bucket, pull the board aside, and try to scrub off all the soap in the mere handful of seconds before the water all drained out of the bucket.

  The showers weren’t equipped to allow Ellis the soaking that she preferred.

  “At least take someone with you.”

  “All right,” said Ellis, unclear as to the reason for his sudden hatred of her spring, but willing to invite Dafina or Everett to come and soak with her if it would make Benton happier.

  And it did make Benton happier.

  “All right,” said Ellis decisively. She pushed herself to her feet. “I’ll see you later.”

  She hesitated a moment longer then, screwing up her courage, moved to kiss Benton on his cheek. She felt the echo of his surprise and delight as if it were her own.

  Smiling, Ellis skipped away.

  The ember of Benton’s happiness followed her all throughout the rest of the afternoon.

  Even in the deepest part of the shade, Ellis thought that she might melt. The dry season was no joke, but it did have its perks.

  The longest, hottest days of the season saw all the members of Ellis’ team as well as Benton and Marc near the edge of the lake. They were all huddled under the open-sided tent – the summer sun was brutal – and sitting so close together was nearly unbearable, especially with everyone sweating and radiating heat in nearly equal measure.

  They stayed though, because it was nearly time. Firebirds chicks hatched on the longest, hottest days of the year.

  The sun climbed higher in the sky, its light and heat relentlessly beating down on everything beneath it. Sunlight gleamed in the stones, clear and obsidians, that littered the banks of the lake and the three islands that had risen from its depleted waters. A stray beam of light hit one of those clear crystals at just the right angle to be narrowed into a beam, one that landed on the thoroughly dried feathers of one of the firebirds.

  It was impossible to see which stone in which moment much less guess which firebird its beam was going to land on, but Ellis knew when it had happened. They all did.

  A cry rang out, and on one of the islands, a bird burst into flames. It arched, flaring its wings wide enough to set alight its nearby mate and all the birds sitting on all the nests around its own.

  The newly lit birds shrieked, their piercing cries ringing out over the colony, as they too arched their backs and flared their wings, setting still more birds on fire. The newly born fire raced across the nesting colony, setting the whole thing ablaze in moments.

  Nearly lost beneath their parents’ ringing cries were the sudden, sharp cracks of breaking eggshells. Tiny chicks emerged into the world, their grey down soft and unburned. They cheeped at their parents, each cry unique, as they begged for their first meal.

  Firebirds launched themselves into the air for the first time in months, taking flight for the first time in months.

  They took their flames to the other two nesting colonies as well as to the colony of unmated birds on the banks of the lake. In a matter of heartbeats, the lake and its banks were all ablaze. Fire shimmered on the waters of the lake, burned on the islands, and gleamed among the stones. It flew through the air on crimson wings, its raucous cries ringing out across the lake.

  It was glorious!

  Even Ellis, who had seen the
colonies hatch before, caught her breath at the magnificent beauty of it now. Her heart soared. Seeing that moment, real and in the wild, was worth every hardship, every misery, and every sweaty moment leading up to it.

  And Benton and Marc caught it all with their cameras, even using the drone in their bid to capture the moment from every angle.

  Later that night – after dinner and her soak in the spring’s cold waters, which was overseen by Benton – Ellis curled up with Benton in their shared bed and admired some of the footage that he had taken earlier in the day. Since that first day, it had swiftly become a nighttime ritual of theirs.

  Ellis really loved his work, and not just because he was snapping photographs of her favorite subjects. She loved the pictures that he had taken around their camp too, as well as of her research assistants and even his assistant, Marc Summers. Benton had a way of capturing the essence of a moment or person or place. Looking at his photographs, it was easy to believe that some snippet of soul was captured in his work, although whether it was his own or his subject’s she still didn’t know. Maybe it was a bit of both.

  Seeing the world through Benton’s eyes was…

  “Beautiful,” breathed Ellis, emotion swelling in her chest as she watched the firebirds catch fire again. She looked up at Benton, his fiery hair dimmed to a darker and richer color by the shadows, and said, “Your work. It’s always so beautiful. I love seeing the world the way that you do.”

  Benton’s shockingly blue eyes softened, and Ellis had a glimpse of tenderness before he leaned forward to press his mouth to hers.

  Ellis gasped, her mouth opening eagerly to his.

  Soft lips moved against hers, catching Ellis’ lower lip and giving it a gentle suck. Want speared her through, catching in her lungs and tightening her belly, and Ellis surged forward as much as any woman could while already curled up against the object of her lust.

  Benton ended up on his back, one of his hands briefly disappearing over the side of the bed with his equipment, and Ellis rolled on top of him, still kissing him. It crushed her soft breasts against his hard chest, and Ellis took advantage of their position to skim her hand across the peaks and valleys of his amazing torso.

  Under her hand, Benton squirmed and, feeling devilish, Ellis lightly dug her fingers into his side, tickling him.

  The effects were instantaneous.

  Arching beneath her, Benton broke their kiss. He was laughing, his head thrown back and his hands clutching her back.

  A moment later, his hands found her sides, and he was tickling her too.

  They rolled around on the bed, tickling and giggling and occasionally kissing – harmless fun that just so happened to tighten Ellis’ belly and make her pulse thrum in her veins.

  An ill-timed shift on Benton’s part – or hers – drew Benton’s forearm across Ellis’ peaked nipple in a feather light touch that made Ellis gasp as much at the sharp pleasure of it as the surge of want that snapped through her.

  She should probably have called it all off then, dragged herself away from Benton, and gone to sleep. She had an early day tomorrow, after all.

  Instead, Ellis retaliated by tweaking his nipple in return and then thumbed it, rubbing it between her thumb and forefinger. She smirked against Benton’s lips when he shivered against her, his hands momentarily tightening on her body.

  “I thought we were putting a pin in that?” asked Benton, his voice low and rough, and Ellis sighed.

  “You’re probably right,” she reluctantly agreed. “We should probably –”

  Ellis cut off with a yelp.

  Benton smirked, a wicked curl of his lips that made Ellis want to kiss the expression right off of his face, but he removed his hand from her butt.

  “Dirty pool, mister,” said Ellis, frowning at him.

  “Turn about is fair play,” retorted Benton with such superiority that Ellis nearly pinched him – or kissed him – again. “Besides, I didn’t pinch you that hard.”

  Ellis wanted to demand that he make it up to her. She wanted to say that he ought to kiss her and make her all better. Instead, all she said was, “You’re right.” Then, much more reluctantly, “We should probably turn in now. Early morning.”

  A heartbeat or five of hesitation, and they reluctantly rolled apart. Benton’s hand found hers.

  “Good night,” said Benton, now holding her hand.

  “Night,” murmured Ellis.

  It was awhile before either of them dropped off to sleep though. Ellis didn’t know what was keeping Benton awake, but for herself, she was imagining what might have happened if, instead of taking Benton’s good advice, she had leaned up to fit her mouth over his and kissed him silly.

  It was a distracting thought.

  And it was a long time before Ellis dropped off to sleep.

  Between the firebirds’ dousing and reignition, there hadn’t been a lot of hands on researching to do.

  Before the chicks had hatched, Ellis’ teams had mostly sat still and observed. They had watched the firebirds’ social interactions, feeding, grooming, and courting behaviors, and they had taken notes on all of the above. They had also noted the presence, behaviors, and romantic prospects of individuals tagged by previous research groups.

  Only one group at a time had been needed on the lake for that sort of information gathering. Ellis had spent most of her days on the lake, because she was the lead researcher and also because she loved her work, but everyone else had cooled their heels in camp or explored the surrounding terrain.

  Once the chicks had hatched, though, Ellis’ job had really picked up. And everything had changed. Ellis was suddenly in a race with the local poachers for every chick, shell shard, and shed feather.

  After the chicks hatched, there were two research teams assigned to the lake at any given time. One team continued to observe the remaining pairs of firebirds – once they had been lit, the unmated firebirds had promptly winged their way to freedom – while the other group took a more hands on approach to information gathering. Those who weren’t secretly fire dragons did that while wearing a heavy, fire resistant stunt suit.

  Sometimes, mostly while she was enclosed from head to toe in a sweaty stunt suit and sweating her butt off, Ellis envied the fire dragons their flame resistance. Then she remembered that she could make it rain – she could make it storm right now, if she wanted to – and immediately took it back.

  She was awesome!

  But she wasn’t any more naturally fire resistant than any other dragon that lacked an affinity for fire or any of its connected elements; hence the liberal use of stunt suits.

  Using their stunt suits, Ellis and her teams waded into the nesting colonies to weigh, measure, and wrap numbered tags around the ankles of as many of the new chicks as they could reach. While they were there, they gathered shards of eggshell, – there was a lot of information to be had from an eggshell – bagged them, and carefully noted which recently numbered chick had hatched out of that egg and, if possible, which adults were their parents.

  The gloves that went with the fire resistant stunt suits made most people clumsy, making it difficult to handle a pen, seal a bag, or close a tag around a chick’s leg. Where such fine motor skills were needed, the team’s four fire dragons – Cameron, Donovan, Dafina, and Everett – had a noticeable edge.

  They also had a noticeable edge with the firebird chicks and their parents. For whatever reason, firebirds loved fire dragons.

  And Benton.

  They especially loved Benton.

  Watching the current chick try to escape Everett’s carefully cupped hands, occasionally taking a break from flapping and squawking to stretch towards Benton and croon, was enough to make Ellis smile. It was so cute!

  And so was Benton’s scowl.

  “Bird, you are literally a week old,” Benton informed the chick, while briefly lowering his camera. “You’re being ridiculous.”

  For answer, the chick clacked its little beak at him and crooned harder. />
  Ellis sincerely hoped that Marc was capturing at least some of this for posterity’s sake. And also because she wanted to own a print or a short clip of this, she wasn’t picky about which it should be. Ellis was more than willing to buy one of those digital picture frames that rotated the displayed pictures or played short clips, if that was what it took.

  In amidst all of the chick’s squirming and flapping, though, Everett lost his grip on the tiny creature. Everett yelped, the chick’s nearest parent screeched, and Ellis tried to catch the poor thing, but Benton’s hands got there first.

  His bare, ungloved hands caught the chick, bringing it up safely against his chest. It was lucky that the chick did not yet have its fiery adult feathers.

  The chick’s parent leaned towards Benton, and he obligingly held the youngster out so that its parent might nose at it. Ellis’ heart stuttered in her chest, and not at the cuteness of the moment. The parent’s flaming head was worrisomely close to Benton’s uncovered skin, but if Benton was uncomfortable, he didn’t show it.

  The adult firebird then tried to preen Benton’s hair, and Everett gently shooed it away. Ignoring the part where they were literally on fire, firebirds were actually a very gentle species. And they were also quite trusting, as they spent so much of their lives utterly inedible to most creatures.

  Benton was gentle too. He very carefully returned the now tagged chick to its nest. And the moment that the chick was safely home in its nest, Ellis grabbed Benton’s wrists and pulled his hands up to where she could inspect them.

  “Are you okay?” she demanded, as she touched all along his hands and turned them over in her own gloved hands. “Did you get burned? Everett, go get the first aid kit.”

  “No, don’t get the first aid kit! I’m fine,” said Benton, although he looked pleased at her concern. “He didn’t burn me. Really.”

  “Are you sure?” persisted Ellis. “Maybe there’s, I don’t know, adrenaline? And you don’t feel it yet?”

  “I don’t think it works like that,” said Benton doubtfully, but he was definitely smiling. Ham. “I’m fine. You don’t see any burns, do you?”