Phoenix Ablaze (BBW / Phoenix Shifter Romance) (Alpha Phoenix Book 1)

by Isadora Montrose

  He was pistoning in and out of her tightness before another second had elapsed. Her body was damp beneath his. Her heels pressed even harder into his buttocks. His arousal cranked up to eleven. Beneath him she went rigid and her legs relaxed as her passage convulsed.

  He let her orgasm trigger his. Semen flooded her already wet vagina. He felt her spasms rock her even more fiercely. Their hearts beat with one frenzied pulse. Pierce could no longer tell where his pleasure ended and Diana’s began. He let go and let their union sweep him away on a tide of possessiveness and satisfaction.

  * * *

  Morning came. Diana was conscious of the heavy weight of Pierce’s arm across her back. Abruptly she remembered the activities of the night before and pressed her hot face into her pillow. Pierce’s pillow. It smelled of him. She filled her lungs and took stock. Her cheek throbbed, but surprisingly, less viciously than last night. Maybe hot sex was a cure for bruising? As if.

  She recalled Pierce pounding into her from behind. Her passage on fire with a desire so new it felt like a completely new sensation. She had been as ardent as he was. Her pussy still felt electrified as if it had been permanently pumped up. She turned her head to her sleeping lover. Her hunger felt unassuaged — even though they had enjoyed each other over and over again. How was that even possible?

  His newly luxuriant mane was tousled. It fell over his forehead in rakish curls and enveloped his ears. No one’s hair grew that fast. No one’s. Yet in the cool light of dawn, his wild tale of shifters seemed deeply improbable.

  He was lying on his stomach, arms and legs sprawled. Which was why she was pinned to the mattress. She wriggled out and went to the bathroom. Her face was as bad as she had feared. Bruising surrounded her left eye. It was already turning green. She poked it with a cautious finger. It was definitely healing.

  Pierce was standing looking out the window when she returned from her shower. He turned. His cock pointed at her like a fully loaded missile seeking her heat. “Good morning.” He smiled and opened his arms.

  “It’s Monday,” she reminded him.

  He sighed. “Are you up to going in to work?” he asked. He stalked towards her. “Your left eye is pretty bad.”

  Amongst the sparse dark curls on his right thigh there was a quarter-sized white scar. How had she never noticed that before? “What happened?” she asked circling it with a careful fingertip.

  Pierce glanced down. He turned his head to look behind him, decided the angle was wrong and felt the back of his thigh. “It’s scarring from the fangs,” he said dismissively.

  Diana knelt to look at his leg. From the side, she could see that the scars were identical. But they looked old and long healed. Her heart began to race and her hands to shake. “It really happened,” she said.

  Pierce drew her up to kiss her. It was the leisurely morning-after kiss of a satisfied lover. “Are you sure you want to take that shiner to work?”

  “We’re short staffed with Tina on maternity leave. Her replacement is sweet, but Janice is no Tina.”

  “Right,” he said regretfully. “Do we have something for breakfast? I’m starving.” He strode off to the bathroom.

  Diana’s dander rose. How dare he just walk away after telling her to make breakfast? She dressed with angry trembling hands. And then she remembered she could go home. It didn’t take long to pack her clothes in her little suitcase. Breakfast? She’d show him fucking breakfast.

  The great room was another reminder of how close they had both come to death. She got the coffee maker going. Then she broke eggs into a bowl and filled the toaster with bread. The leftovers she had packed up for today’s lunch were gone. He had fucking eaten her lunch in the middle of the night. The fact that there were still two identical tubs in his freezer didn’t alter her sense of grievance.

  By the time he came whistling into the kitchen, his long hair slicked back wetly from his forehead, she was at a simmer. He saw her suitcase and her stormy face. His whistle died on a long note. “Hey,” he said softly. “What is it, my love?”

  That tore it. She flung the sponge in her hand at him. He snagged it out of the air and stalked to her. He trapped her in front of the counter with his arms. “I was too rough last night,” he said remorsefully. “I’m sorry. It was all the excitement. Did I hurt you, babe?”

  She shoved at his chest. His pecs felt like a brick wall. But he stepped back a pace so she could grab the spatula and turn the pan on.

  “Diana?”

  The puzzlement in his voice enraged her more. “You nearly fricking got yourself killed,” she snapped.

  “It turned out fine, sweetheart. I’m better than ever.” He was damn well laughing at her.

  Diana dumped the eggs into the pan. It wasn’t yet hot enough, and she had forgotten the butter. She stirred anyway. “I’m going to be late to the clinic,” she said.

  Pierce took mugs out of the cupboard and cream from the fridge. He poured the coffee, added just the right amount of cream to hers, and set it beside her. “We have lots of time,” he assured her.

  How dared he? She took a slurp of coffee and scalded her mouth. That felt like his fault too. They ate their lousy, saltless eggs in hostile silence. As soon as she was finished she stood up. “I’ll just get my stuff and we can get going.”

  * * *

  What the hell had he said or done? His passionate bedmate had transformed into a virago. Was it that time of the month? His nose told him no. Probably the delayed shock of the violence last night. Which he had probably increased by making love to her like a wild animal. A wild animal not using birth control. His heart sank. He did not want to start his life with his mate with an unplanned pregnancy. But it was a fact of life that shifters were potent and their mates fecund.

  Shit. He had truly pissed in his pot. He had better get on with his declaration of love. Work in a proposal. And tell her he was a faithful-hearted phoenix who would love her forever.

  “I borrowed this bag,” she said as she set a large zippered tote on top of her little suitcase.

  “Are you moving out?” he asked. His lips felt stiff.

  “Of course I am.” She rolled her eyes. “The danger’s over, isn’t it?”

  Every word was a challenge. What the hell? “I’d like you to stay,” he said as mildly as he could. Her anger seemed to be triggering a matching fury in him.

  He drew in a deep breath and took a step back as she exploded. “I have my own damned life,” she snapped. “I don’t need charity.”

  He never could remember all the nasty words they threw at each other. The fight seemed to go on for a long time. When it was finished he was sitting in the driver’s seat of his SUV beside a rigid woman nothing like the sex-starved nymph of last night. He knew that whatever was happening between them was at least partially his fault, but he couldn’t seem to find a path through their mutual animosity.

  He drove her straight to her building. “You don’t have to bother to get out,” she snapped as he opened his door.

  He ignored that piece of foolishness and grabbed her bags. He stopped to sniff her car. It was still a snake-free zone.

  “Give me those,” she cried, tugging at the suitcase.

  He was stronger. He had the satisfaction of having her give up and stomp away from him. He admired the strong round cheeks of the finest piece of ass in Arizona as she took the steps two at a time. They both had to stop and pretend to be calm because Thelma Benoy opened her door to say ‘Hey,’ as they went past.

  “Did the police catch that man?” she asked hopefully.

  “No, ma’am,” Pierce said.

  Mrs. Benoy’s milky eyes darted between them. “Save your energy for the bad guy,” she said obscurely. “You need to stop by tonight, Diana. I stubbed my toe yesterday.”

  “I’ll look now,” she said. Her glare dared Pierce to object.

  “Excellent plan,” he said.

  Diana’s place smelled stale, as if it had been closed up too long. “I’ll water th
e plants while you attend to Mrs. B,” he said.

  “I’ll water my own damned plants. I’ve been looking after myself for a long time, Maj. D’Angelo.”

  “What the fuck is the matter with you?” he roared at her.

  She stuck her nose in the air and grabbed her first aid kit and left the apartment. Of course he opened every curtain and window, and watered the plants while she was gone. The cameras were still in place, of course. He figured he would have to arrange with Ames and Gardiner to fetch their tech. He was locking the slider when she returned.

  Her bruised face was hard to read. But her posture still radiated anger. He was getting over his unaccustomed burst of temper.

  “I thought I told you to leave that alone?” she yelled.

  “And I thought you were worried about being late for work,” he countered.

  “That doesn’t make you the boss,” she threw back.

  “Whoa, Nellie,” he said holding up his hands. “I surrender. I’m sorry, for whatever I said. For whatever I did. Forgive me.”

  And then she threw him out.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Because it was Halloween, most of the patients thought her colorful bruises were part of some elaborate costume. Of course, Ruby and Hazel had seen too many black eyes to be deceived.

  “He hit you,” Hazel hissed in outrage. “Did you call the police?”

  “It wasn’t Pierce,” Diana said for what felt like the hundredth time. Her coworkers’ suspicions had rubbed her already raw emotions rawer. She had a niggling feeling that she had overreacted. Been unfair. It had only been a matter of time, she told herself, before his dominant character had made her feel trapped. Only a matter of time before he recognized their mutual incompatibility. Besides who the fuck fucked a fucking fowl? Only a stupid, fat fool.

  All through the day her bruises ached more. The place where her hip had taken her fall to the floor throbbed like the dickens. She popped anti-inflammatories like M&M’s until Hazel took the bottle out of her hand. “You should have gone to emergency,” she scolded. “I hope you took pictures.”

  “I told you,” Diana said. “Pierce stopped the guy who was beating me up.”

  “And then you called the cops?” Janice said softly. “Right?”

  “He took off into the dark. There wasn’t much point in calling 911. Pierce lives out in the country. It would have taken the sheriff an hour to get a car out to us.”

  “And this morning they could have trackers scouring the foothills for your attacker,” Janice said. Her tone said. ‘Not that there was an attacker.’

  And what could she say to that? Pierce set the bastard on fire and there’s nothing left but ashes?

  * * *

  Ames and Gardiner had taken cat to explore the scree. Even on four broad cat-feet it was still a treacherous surface and they had to move cautiously. Despite their best efforts, stones pelted them and twice they had to leap out of the way of a small avalanche of stone chips.

  There was a great blackened patch where the phoenix and the snake had blazed. The plants that had gotten caught up in that conflagration were burned to the root. Ames pawed at the burnt stumps and black roots pulled out of the loose stones. The fire had spared nothing. He sniffed. The bitter tang of burnt creosote lay over the burnt sage and tumbleweed. These vegetable scents formed acrid layers above which the stench of burning snake and phoenix curled in the smoky air.

  Gardiner shifted the black stones about with a delicate paw the size of a dinner plate. Something moved. Ames came closer. Mountain lion and lynx sniffed at the long curling strip of burnt debris. It was a snake’s shed skin, roasted to a crisp. As they touched it, it shattered into black flakes that the wind carried off.

  Ames’ nose wrinkled. He sneezed. Beside him his partner opened his mouth and drew bitter air deep into his mouth. He shook his head and did it again. He nudged the cougar with his heavy shoulder. Ames opened his own great mouth and wrinkled his muzzle to intensify the odor. He caught a whiff of something charred. Something not quite a snake, and not quite a man.

  His golden eyes met Gardiner’s. The two great cats began to systematically quarter the hillside. They paused to taste the air from time to time. Occasionally one or the other thought they picked up a trace of Venom. In the end they made their cautious way to the top of the slope. They paced back and forth until their weight caused the topmost edge of the scree to give way.

  Together they sprang backward onto the scrubby rim and observed the landslide bury last night’s ashes and any trace of a badly burned snake returning to human. Mission completed, they rested side by side, breathing deeply and contentedly. When the dust settled, they melted into the desert.

  * * *

  “What the hell happened to you?” Tina demanded. She patted Emily’s tiny back when her fierce tone made the baby flinch in her sleep.

  “I was attacked. No, I didn’t call the cops. Pierce ran the guy off. No, Pierce did not hit me,” Diana said wearily.

  Small arms tackled her knees. Diana knelt and held Ricky’s small body tightly. “Aunt Die-Na,” he screeched. “I’m going to get this much candy.” One arm smacked her across her face. It hurt like the dickens. Ricky’s small body was removed.

  “You have to be careful, son,” said Pierce’s deep voice. “Aunt Diana hurt her face.”

  “Sorry,” piped Ricky.

  Pierce put him on his shoulders. Diana noticed he had had his ringlets cropped close. He looked ready to return to duty. He was about ready to leave her.

  Ray appeared beside Pierce. He gave Diana a cautious hug. His fingers tapped her cheekbone expertly. “You should have had that x-rayed,” he said.

  “It’s just a bruise,” Diana insisted. “He used his open hand. It’s not broken.”

  “Cheekbones are surprisingly fragile.” Ray exchanged a glance with Pierce. “I still say you should have called the police. Lots of good trackers in the Window Rock Police Department.

  “Why don’t you ask me if Pierce did this?” asked Diana, as put out by Ray’s acceptance of the story of her attacker as she had been by all the accusations that Pierce had hit her.

  “Angle’s wrong,” Ray said. “If Pierce had smacked you upside the head, the heel of his hand would have connected differently. He’s taller than you are. The guy who hit you was probably a few inches shorter than you are, or had unusually short arms.”

  “He was short,” admitted Diana. “I didn’t notice his arms.

  “We just have time to eat before we light the Jack-o’-lanterns,” Tina said cheerfully. She handed Diana the baby and moved towards the kitchen. “I made a stew we can eat fast.”

  * * *

  “Man, you are so screwed.” Ray handed Pierce a beer.

  Pierce felt like ripping the top off but he used the opener Ray handed him. He took a swift pull to block the words rising to his lips.

  “Your best hope is to put the kid between the two of you, and hope she calms down.” Ray drank from his own bottle.

  “I tried apologizing,” Pierce ground out between his teeth.

  “Try harder.” Ray looked steadily at the taller man. “Unless she isn’t worth the trouble.”

  “Any amount,” Pierce said fervently.

  “Well, then, your path is clear. Grovel.”

  Pierce thought it was good advice, he just didn’t have a clue what his crime was. Was Diana mad because he was a shifter? So out of his control. Not like he had picked. Was it because he had let Venom get to her in his own house? That was the clusterfuck to end all clusterfucks. Not even saving her made it okay to have let that rogue batter his woman.

  He had been hoping that by now she would be over whatever had put burrs under her saddle. But by the way she had looked at him as if he were something she had stepped in, he figured that she was more riled up than ever.

  “Dinner,” Tina called from the kitchen.

  He and Ray scooped up Ricky and went to the table. Ricky was clamorous. He poked at his food with a scorn
ful fork. “Batman doesn’t eat dinner,” he announced loudly.

  “Sure, he does,” said Ray. “And what’s more, boys who don’t eat their suppers, don’t get to go trick or treating.”

  “Why?” asked Ricky dragging his fork through the stew.

  “Because,” Pierce said sorrowfully. “They will be too weak to carry their candy.”

  Ricky’s brown eyes rounded. “Really?”

  “Sure,” said Pierce. “You already look a little weedy now. I think you need to eat some meat and rice.”

  “And vegetables,” chimed in Tina.

  “And vegetables,” agreed Pierce.

  “Not carrots,” insisted Ricky. “Batman doesn’t eat carrots.”

  “Are there carrots on your plate, Batman?” Ray asked sternly.

  Ricky investigated. “No,” he admitted. He began to eat.

  Pierce’s eyes automatically sought Diana’s to share the joke. But her eyes fell away from his and she turned to Tina. “May I have the rolls?” she asked.

  Now what had he done?

  It was a rapid meal. Little Emily seemed to sense that tonight was different. She responded by fussing in her baby seat until Diana abandoned her meal to rock her.

  “You don’t have to do that,” Tina said. “I’m used to holding her while I eat. We both are.”

  “I’m done, thanks,” Diana insisted.

  Pierce closed his lips hard on what sprang to them. At this rate by the time they got to handing out candy he was going to have a hole the size of Texas in his tongue. Diana had taken a Ricky-sized portion. And she had left half of it on her plate. As for his appetite, he had been on active service too long not to eat what was set before him, when it was set before him. He smiled at Tina.

  “That was great,” he said.

  “Have some more,” she replied.

  “Don’t mind if I do.” Pierce scooped rice and stew onto his plate.

  Emily began to root at Diana’s breast. She looked embarrassed. “I think this one is hungry,” she said.

  “When is she not?” asked Ray. He got up and attempted to distract his daughter.