Firefighter Phoenix

by Zoe Chant

  “Not until you answer one final question.” He heard her get up, coming toward him.

  Even now, after all he’d done to her, he knew he would not be able to withstand the sweet fire of her touch. He was forced to turn to face her, before she could reach out and burn away the last of his resolve.

  She didn’t reach out to him, but she was still close, too close. He pressed his back into the closed door, trying not to feel the heat of her body. He focused on the tears gleaming against her ebony skin so that he would not see the lush softness of her half-parted lips, or fall into the endless wonder of her eyes.

  “Did you…” Rose paused, her throat working as she swallowed. His fingertips yearned to trace that long, elegant column. “Did you ever truly care for me? Or was it just guilt?”

  His own throat burned. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to laugh or cry. Everything that he’d done to her, and this was what she asked?

  “I never just cared for you,” he said. Her eyes widened, but he hadn’t finished. The words spilled out of him in a fierce, desperate torrent, bursting free at last. “I love you, Rose. I have loved you from the moment I first saw you. I will always love you. I came here, I stayed here, because I could not bear to be apart from you. I love you.”

  She searched his face. “Even though I’m not your mate?”

  “I am not your mate.” She still didn’t notice the subtle correction. “But you are my everything.”

  She nodded, once, as though she’d come to some private decision. “I don’t want to be alone.”

  Of course she didn’t, not after everything he’d dropped on her tonight. Even now, his heart lifted a little at the prospect of being able to serve her in some small way.

  He reached for his work-issue cell phone, holstered as always on his belt. “I could call Hayley, or—”

  Her look stopped him mid-sentence.

  “Ash.” Very deliberately, she hooked a finger through one of his belt loops. “You are an idiot.”

  This seemed very likely. His mind had gone completely blank. He stumbled forward as she pulled him into her arms.

  “But,” he started, and then completely forgot whatever he’d been about to say as her free hand curved around the back of his neck.

  “Shut up, Ash,” she whispered, drawing him down.

  Her mouth pressed against his, silencing him. And she was warm and welcoming and his mate, and it had been so, so long since he had been home.

  He closed his eyes, sinking deep into the sweet taste of her. Her lips parted for him, without hesitation, just as they’d done all those years ago. She was still just as bold and fierce, claiming his tongue with hers, her fingernails digging into the back of his neck. He cradled her face, fire racing through him as his fingers spanned the familiar, proud line of her jaw, the fine arch of her cheekbones.

  He tightened his grip, holding her still as he broke the kiss. Even pulling away the barest inch felt like ripping his soul in half all over again. He burned with the need to fall back into her heat again.

  “Rose,” he gasped, barely able to draw enough breath for words. “I took everything from you.”

  Her eyes met his. “So give me something back.”

  Her strong fingers were still hooked into his belt loop; she pulled him closer, pressing her hips against his. The shock of that contact undid him completely.

  No more restraint. No more second thoughts. She was his only thought now.

  The Phoenix rose in his soul, unrestrained, ravenous. His body rose too, fast and hard. Rose’s eyes flew open.

  “Oh my,” she gasped into his mouth. “Ash, this is probably the point where I need to tell you something. I’m a virgin.”

  For a second, he was utterly baffled—and then his heart lurched.

  “You never, in all these years…” He choked the words off before he said too much. His thumb brushed over her mouth, lightly, wonderingly.

  “You’re my first,” Rose said, her midnight skin taking on a warmer hue as she blushed furiously. “And, um, that doesn’t feel like novice-sized equipment.”

  He was her first. Again. Which meant that he was her only.

  He kissed her hard, deeply, until she was limp and liquid in his grasp, head tipped back, hands fisted in his shirt. His mate. His Rose. His first and only, as he was hers, always, forever.

  “What was that for?” she gasped, when he finally had to come up for air.

  “You.” He scooped her up in his arms. “For being more than I will ever deserve.”

  She bit his lower lip lightly. “Don’t you dare start that again. You’d better be carrying me to the bedroom.”

  He was. The guilt that had bound him for so long was crumbling into ash, burned away by the fire she’d lit within his blood. Once again, she’d freed him—with a word, with a touch, with her love.

  He had come back to her, and he would never leave her again.

  He laid her carefully, so carefully, on the bed. He stretched out next to her, propping himself up on his side so that he could kiss her again, slowly, lingering.

  They had never had the time to be slow, before.

  But he’d had twenty years to dream.

  Her temples, the dimples in her cheeks, the secret, sensitive spot behind her ear—he worshipped them all. Her skin was even softer than he remembered, traced with fine lines around her eyes and mouth. Beautiful lines, tracks of joy and grief and wisdom. Her soul had shaped her body, over the years. She had become more herself.

  She touched the corner of his eye. “Ash,” she whispered.

  He brushed his tongue over her fingertips, tasting the salt of his tears. “Joy. They’re for joy. Rose, oh Rose.”

  She arced up to him as he worked his way down the glorious line of her neck. He was dizzy with the scent of her, near drunk on the taste of her skin. Need pulsed urgently through him, but it was different from the unstoppable, feral drive that had gripped him at their first mating.

  She was already his mate. This was about their desires now, not their animals’ instincts.

  And, oh, he desired her, with the intensity of a thousand suns. He would burn for her always, never dimming, with a fire as eternal as the Phoenix itself.

  Knowing that, he could take his time.

  One by one, he undid the buttons of her blouse, holding his breath as he exposed her inch by inch. She rolled to let him pull the soft fabric free from her body. He skimmed the white straps of her bra, sliding them down over the soft curves of her shoulders. A slightly awkward moment, Rose giggling and wriggling while he fumbled with unseen hooks—and then she was bare to him at last.

  All the breath sighed out of his lungs. He drank in the sight of her rich curves, the proud, dark peaks of her nipples. Her breasts were fuller now. They would overflow his palms with their lush bounty. Just the thought made him clench his hand in the bedclothes, struggling not to lose control.

  “You are more beautiful than I—” He very nearly slipped and said remembered. “Than I dreamed.”

  Rose’s eyes were wide and dark, hazed with desire. She folded her arms behind her head, arching her back in blatant invitation.

  That did break his control. He buried his face in her richness, groaning at the softness, the fullness, the unbearable perfection of her nipples. He teased the buds with tongue and fingers and palm, savoring the way they swelled and hardened under his touch. His own hardness grew too, until his thighs tightened with the effort of holding back. It was agony, sweet agony, but the delicious sounds he won from Rose’s gasping mouth were satisfaction enough.

  “Ash!” she cried out, head flung back, hips lifting. “Ash!”

  He’d gone by that name for two decades, and yet now it rang false in his ears. He silenced her mouth with his own, sliding his palms down over her stomach, under the tight waistband of her skirt. They both groaned as he found the softness of her curls, already damp for him. Her hips pressed up into his hand, her knees spreading, but the angle was wrong; he couldn’t reach a
ny further.

  She pushed at his shoulders, though her mouth didn’t release his. He braced himself on one forearm, lifting just high enough for her hands to be able to dive between them. She unzipped her skirt, shoving it down past her hips with an impatient wriggle. The motion ground her thigh against his rigid length, and he almost lost control there and then. He had to roll away, gasping, fighting against his surging need.

  Rose very nearly undid his efforts by straddling him. She’d stripped off her skirt and panties, leaving her gloriously, maddeningly bare. He caught her hips, stopping her a scant inch above him.

  “I’ve waited a long time for this,” he said hoarsely. His muscles shook with the effort of holding her away rather than pulling her down. “I don’t want it to be over too fast.”

  He jerked as she deliberately canted her hips, brushing against him through his pants. Rose grinned wickedly down, smug delight sparking in her eyes.

  “I should make you wait longer, since you made me wait so long,” she said, leaning forward. “But I’m not that patient.”

  She claimed his mouth as her fingers worked down his shirt buttons. White-hot sparks flashed across his vision as she ran her hands over his bare chest. Oh, her hands remembered him, even though her mind didn’t. They knew exactly where to touch him, and how, until he was gasping underneath her, every muscle knotted.

  Blindly, he reached up, pulling her down. With a twist, he captured her underneath him, pressing her into the soft covers. Every inch of him was on fire. Her bare skin against his was relief and fuel combined; ecstasy that only sparked greater hunger. He slid down her body, planting feverish, open-mouthed kisses across her stomach and thighs.

  “Oh,” she gasped, legs falling open for him. “Oh.”

  There she was at last, better than memory, better than dreams. He slid under her legs, hooking her ankles over his shoulders, so that he could gaze at her. His hands cupped her soft buttocks, lifting her up a little, exposing every rosy, gleaming fold. He breathed in her exquisite scent, uniquely her.

  Her thighs quivered around his neck, tensing. “Ash?” she said, with a catch of uncertainty.

  If she had still been connected to him, she would have known his hesitation for what it was—a moment of overwhelming, dumbstruck awe at her magnificence. She was offering him a priceless gift. It was only fitting that he treat it with reverence.

  But she couldn’t read his soul. He couldn’t surround her with his feelings, so that she knew as deeply as he did her perfection and magnificence.

  All he could do was show her.

  He bent his head, sliding his tongue through her slick folds. He relished her taste, her soft sounds of pleasure, the way she opened and bloomed in response to his touch.

  He circled her sensitive bud, sucking, teasing. Even as she cried out in ecstasy, her hips bucked up against him, demanding more. Oh, that was Rose, his Rose, open with her desires, boldly claiming her due. Delighted by her urgency, he slid two fingers into her welcoming depths.

  Her thighs clenched hard around his head, as hard as her body around his fingers. The hot pulse of her fulfillment filled him with fierce satisfaction.

  She gasped as he crooked his fingers, her inner walls still trembling with shuddering flutters. He would gladly have wrung wave after wave of pleasure from her, but she pulled away.

  “I said I’m not patient, Ash.” Pushing him off, she sat up, flushed and gleaming with sweat. “Don’t make me wait any longer.”

  He was so hard that it was a struggle to undo his pants. He couldn’t bite back a groan as his length sprang free from the confining fabric at last.

  Rose drew in a soft, sharp breath. A little tentatively, she reached out. He jerked at the first brush of her fingers, wetness beading his tip. Every shy touch was exquisite agony as she explored him.

  He caught her wrist as she started to wrap her fingers around him. “Rose.”

  She stopped immediately, withdrawing her hand. “Not good?”

  Again, that slight catch of uncertainty in her voice. He wished with all his soul that she could feel what he felt, the effect she had on him.

  “Too good,” he said gently, bending to kiss away the worried crease in her brow. “Rose, my Rose. If only you could see yourself through my eyes.”

  Her smile dazzled him. “No more waiting?”

  “No more waiting,” he breathed.

  She might not be able to read his soul, but he could read hers. Imperfectly, through the old, blackened scar between them, but he still didn’t need words to know her desires.

  He stretched out on the bed, lying on his back. Once again, she straddled his hips—but this time, there was nothing between them. He caught her hands, bracing his arms. Supporting her steadily, holding still, despite the inferno raging through his blood.

  Slowly, maddeningly, her wet heat enfolded him. She took him with painstaking care, biting her lip in anticipation of pain. He clenched his own teeth, staying silent even though he longed to reassure her that he wouldn’t hurt her, couldn’t, never would again.

  “Oh,” she gasped, as she stretched around him. “Oh.”

  She took all of him easily, so easily. He couldn’t hold back any longer as her depths embraced him. He thrust upward, fingers clenching around hers, burying himself in her welcoming warmth.

  She cried out his name as he filled her utterly. He thrust again, and again, her body moving to match his, picking up the same driving need.

  He pulled her down to him, wanting her closer, skin to skin. He held her tight in his arms, her breasts to his chest, her breath in his mouth. In her and around her, bodies united into one.

  It wasn’t enough.

  Even as her back arched, even as she screamed his name, even as he emptied himself into her, it wasn’t enough. They were as close as two people could be, yet she was still agonizingly untouchable. What should have been an open bond between them, bright and strong, lay scorched and black and dead.

  He poured into her, longing for her, straining to reach her across that old, charred scar—

  Her half-lidded, ecstasy-glazed eyes snapped open. She stared down at him, her lips shaping a single, impossible word.

  “Blaze.”

  Chapter 14

  Past

  20 years ago…

  Blaze lay awake in the dark, watching Rose sleep. Even exhaustion couldn’t drain the tension from her body. She huddled against him, one arm thrown over his waist, her face pressed into his side. Every now and then her fingers twitched, clutching at him as though to make sure he was still there.

  He stroked her hair, sending gentle reassurance down the mate bond. “It’s all right,” he whispered. “Sleep, Rose. I’m here. You’re safe.”

  It was a lie. She would never be safe.

  Not while she was his mate.

  A soft beeping noise made him start. A light on the hotel phone was flashing, next to a label saying Front Desk. Rose stirred fretfully, mumbling something.

  “Shh,” he murmured, tightening his grip on her. “It’s nothing. Go back to sleep.”

  Rose sighed, relaxing again. It took him a second to pull back his own fire to the point where he could pick up the phone without melting the handset. He fumbled with it, getting it the right way round on the second attempt.

  “Mr. Blaze?” a voice said apologetically in his ear. “Sorry to disturb you, sir, but I have a call for you.”

  He rubbed his aching eyes, trying to concentrate through the haze of exhaustion. “A call? For me?”

  “Yes, sir. He asked for you by name. Would you like me to put him through?”

  He suddenly felt cold, despite Rose’s warm body pressed against his. “Yes.”

  A click.

  “This is a demonstration,” said a familiar, icy voice.

  Rose flinched in her sleep. He held very still, gripping his emotions tight to stop them from spilling down the mate bond.

  “Corbin,” he said.

  “You are at the Hilton at S
acramento Airport,” the warlock said, in the same factual, level tone. “Evidently booked in under your own name. You traveled there today at speeds which suggest a car or taxi rather than flight. Is that sufficient to convince you how closely that I can track you, or shall I continue?”

  Blaze forced himself to breathe calmly and evenly. “Tell me my mate’s name and animal.”

  The briefest of pauses. “Her identity is irrelevant. I can scry her easily, always, thanks to the bond you have foolishly forged with her. By linking your souls, you have sealed her fate.”

  The tightness in his chest eased a little. Corbin still didn’t know who Rose was. It wasn’t much, given that the warlock could still find her by magical means, but at least they didn’t need to worry about more mundane methods.

  “What do you want, Corbin?” Blaze asked.

  “That should be self-evident. Your willing submission.”

  “Never. You have no leverage. You lost the wendigo, your best weapon against me. You don’t even have the element of surprise. You won’t have another chance at my mate.”

  “Still letting your beast think for you,” the warlock said. “Really, Blaze. Do you really think you can guard her every minute of every day? I can tell that she is sleeping at this very moment. I will know the instant that you surrender to exhaustion—careful, now. You’ll wake her, if you don’t control yourself.”

  His fingers dug into the softening, scorching plastic of the phone handset. He clenched his teeth, pushing the fire back down.

  “If you harm her,” he breathed, “if you touch her, I will destroy you. If it takes my entire life, I will obliterate you all.”

  “Yes,” Corbin agreed, not sounding at all concerned. “And your mate would still be dead.”

  “You’d be dead. This is a stand-off. You have just as much to lose.”

  “Don’t tell me what I have left to lose,” Corbin snarled, his cultured manner dropping away to reveal the seething hatred beneath. “You have already taken everything from me. I did the impossible, I bound the Phoenix, I was a god. You cannot imagine what it is like, to hold such power only to have it ripped away. I want it back. I will have it back.”