by Zoe Chant
Her hands moved over him in return. Suds ran down the center of his chest, trickled across his abdomen, dripped lower. He was so hard even that light touch was exquisite torment.
He knew she felt his surging desire. He could feel how every drop of water hit her sensitized skin as well, how his trailing fingers made her own heat rise.
It became a game, to go slowly. To see how slow they could go, before one of them snapped. Inch by inch, stroke by stroke, washing each other with painstaking thoroughness. No more darkness between them, no more charred ash and blackened secrets. Just the simple, clean truth of the mate bond.
“Ash,” she gasped, her breast pressing into his palm. “Ash!”
His fingers circled between her thighs, dipping into her hot slickness. She broke first, clenching around him as ecstasy swept over her.
The mate bond lay as open and ready as her body, dry tinder awaiting a spark. He could lift her now, slide into her, make her blaze…
He pulled away from her instead, bracing his hands against the shower cubicle. Before, that would have made her hesitate, wondering whether she had done something wrong. But now…now she just opened her eyes again, a rueful smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she sensed his inner struggle.
“Ah,” she said. “You don’t want this to be over too quickly.”
“I want to be able to do you justice.” His breathing was ragged. “Just give me…a moment.”
Her tongue ran over her lips. She gave him a look that jerked his shaft to even stiffer attention.
“No,” she said slowly. “No, I don’t think I will.”
He gasped as she wrapped her hand around him. He collapsed back against the tiled wall, momentarily blinded by sensation.
And then her mouth slid over him.
All thought went up in smoke. All he knew was the exquisite heat of her, the play of her tongue, the softness of her lips.
He wound his hand into her hair, hips jerking upward uncontrollably. In mere seconds, he was coming hard, in great, shuddering spurts, emptying himself deep into her welcoming mouth.
Rose pulled back, a satisfied gleam in her eyes. “I have wanted to do that for a very long time.”
His legs were still shaking. He took her hands, pulling her up, crushing his mouth against hers. He kissed her long and deep, wordlessly telling her everything.
The water abruptly ran cold. Rose yelped. He slammed the dial round so fast the handle snapped off in his hand. He was left holding it, no doubt looking rather ridiculous, as she dissolved into giggles.
“Well, good thing we got thoroughly clean,” she said. “Since it doesn’t look like the shower will be working again anytime soon.”
“I am going to owe Scarlet yet another apology.” He balanced the broken handle in the soap dish, for lack of anything better to do with it. “But it was worth it.”
Rose had wrapped herself in a towel, but she was still shivering. He went over to her, folding her in his arms, and concentrated.
“Oooooh,” she sighed, relaxing as the wave of heat enveloped her. “All right, I forgive you for breaking our shower.”
He nuzzled her wet hair, breathing in her delicious scent—the perfumed soap mixing in with the richer, underlying warmth of her. “Will you forgive me for not being in my twenties any more?”
She shot him a quizzical look. “I’m not in my twenties any more.”
“You aren’t a man.” He gestured downward, rather sheepishly. “You did rather too good a job in there. I may need a little time to recover.”
She giggled again, nestling against him. “We have all the time in the world.”
Chapter 27
Neridia sighed in pleasure, relaxing back against a mound of soft white pillows. “Now this is more like it.”
If Rose had thought her own cottage luxurious, the one Scarlet has assigned to Neridia and John was positively palatial. Folded-back French windows lined one wall, allowing the salt-tinged ocean breeze to cool the elegant room. Even with the enormous super king-sized bed, it was still big enough to comfortably fit the entirety of Alpha Team and their mates. Potted flowers bloomed on every surface, surrounding them all in a riot of scent and color.
“You’ve certainly earned it.” Rose handed Neridia a lavish non-alcoholic cocktail, so heavily garnished that it was not so much a drink as a fruit salad. “Here. The bartender helped me make this for you. He’s very talented.”
“All the staff have been so kind.” Neridia took an appreciative sip of the drink. “Well, my baby’s first few hours may not have been auspicious, but at least he’s spending his first night in style.”
“Born in the aftermath of battle,” John rumbled, pride filling his deep voice. “He will be a mighty warrior.”
At the moment, Rose couldn’t imagine the tiny bundle growing up to be a mighty anything. The sleeping newborn looked small as a kitten in John’s vast hands.
The infant’s skin was a rich, deep brown, somewhere between Neridia’s warm ochre and John’s indigo-tinged ebony in hue. His soft bud of a mouth worked in his sleep, dreaming of milk. His thick mop of inky-blue curls gleamed with turquoise highlights.
“Definitely a sea dragon, with that hair,” Hayley commented, peering round John’s other side. “Have you decided on a name yet?”
John said his son’s name. At least, Rose assumed that he had.
“Very pretty,” Hugh said, lounging in the corner with what Rose suspected was a rather more alcoholic cocktail than the one she’d given Neridia. “Please tell me there’s a translation of that. Otherwise we’re all going to have to start carrying around cellos.”
“Sea dragon names relate our deeds and lineage,” John said, beaming proudly down at his son. “He is the Emperor-in-Waiting, Heir to the Pearl Throne, Crown Prince of the Sea.”
The Emperor-in-Waiting, Heir to the Pearl Throne, Crown Prince of the Sea, made a little smacking sound, blowing a bubble.
Griff cocked a wry eyebrow up at John. “Please tell me you aren’t going to put that mouthful on his birth certificate.”
Neridia laughed. “No. He has an air name too. Joseph, for my father, and Finley, for the Master Shark. Joseph Finley Small.”
“Joe.” Rose stroked the baby’s cheek, marveling at the velvety softness. “He’s the most beautiful baby ever.”
Griff cleared his throat. “Didn’t you say that about my wee ones?”
“And my Morwenna?” Dai added, grinning.
“All babies are the most beautiful ever,” Rose said firmly. “Can I hold him?”
Carefully, John transferred the infant into her outstretched arms. She cuddled him to her chest, dropping her head down to breathe in his milky new-baby scent. Wistful longing flooded through her.
If things had been different…if she and Ash had never been parted, or had found their way back to each other sooner…
His hand fell on her shoulder. His deep, quiet regret echoed her own.
She blinked hard, banishing unshed tears. She had so much. She wouldn’t sorrow for those lost years, the children they might have had.
No, her swan agreed. Its neck arched in sly, secret amusement. Gather sticks and feathers instead.
“You know,” Chase said thoughtfully, while she was still puzzling over that one. “I think we need to come up with a new name.”
“Do not listen to this man,” Connie announced to the world in general. She spread a hand over her belly. “He is not allowed to name his own children, let alone anyone else’s.”
“I don’t know why you keep rejecting my suggestions,” Chase said in a wounded tone. “What’s wrong with Cainneach, Cionaodh, and Conchobhar?”
Hugh gazed at the ceiling. “Where do we start?”
Ivy elbowed her mate. “I actually kind of like them. They’re unusual.”
“Spell them,” Connie told her. “I dare you.”
“Take it from someone named Daifydd,” Dai muttered to Chase. “Don’t do it.”
“Welsh i
s an unreasonable language,” Chase said airily. “Irish at least makes sense.”
“Unlike yourself.” John’s bass-deep voice had taken on its darkest, most forbidding tones, but his indigo eyes betrayed his amusement. “May I inquire why, precisely, you are objecting to my son’s name, sword-brother?”
“Not his name,” Chase said, waving a dismissive hand at the baby. “That’s perfectly fine, if a little lacking in vowels. I mean him.”
They all followed his pointing finger.
Ash looked around, then down at himself. “As far as I am aware, I already possess a name.”
“A terrible one,” Chase informed him, without the slightest hint of shame. “The ladies told us the story. Honestly. From Blaze to Ash? You might as well call yourself My-Life-Is-a-Blasted-Barren-Wasteland-of-Nothingness.”
“It probably didn’t fit on the form,” Hugh said, smirking. “Chase has a point. It is a bit angsty.”
“You’re calling someone angsty?” Ivy murmured.
“I’m aware of the irony.” Hugh saluted her with his cocktail, his mouth softening into a genuine smile. “In any case, I think that rising from the dead certainly qualifies as an occasion to take a new name. So what shall we call him now, Chase?”
Chase tapped his finger against his lips for a moment. “I suppose Fire Commander Fire doesn’t quite work?”
Rose’s snort of laughter woke the baby up. She hastily handed him back to his mother. “Not really, no.”
“And there would be certain difficulties with yelling ‘Fire!’ to get his attention,” Griff pointed out, his golden eyes gleaming with suppressed mirth. “Especially at the fire station.”
“Good point,” Chase conceded. He brightened. “Wait! I have it! The perfect thing. Something that says ‘fire’ without, you know, literally saying fire. Flames rekindled, renewed, burning brighter than ever…”
Rose took Ash’s hand. “Brace yourself,” she murmured in his ear.
Chase pointed finger-guns at him. “Sparky!”
Hugh inhaled quite a lot of his drink. John’s huge shoulders shook. Dai and Griff exchanged glances, and burst into howls of laughter.
Ash’s poker face was perfect. “Thank you for the suggestion. I shall give it the consideration it deserves.”
“Will you change your name again?” Rose asked him curiously, much later.
They were wandering back from the dining hall, taking a scenic route along the beach. The gleaming white sands were deserted, most of the resort guests still enjoying the sumptuous dessert buffet. To their left, the sun was just touching the edge of the sea, filling the sky with soft shades of gold and orange.
His hand tightened a little on hers. “In truth, I was thinking of it. With your permission.”
“Why would you need that?” She leaned her head against his shoulder, enjoying his warmth in the rapidly cooling evening. “Unless you’re actually contemplating Sparky, in which case I utterly forbid it. There’s a limit to what I’m willing to scream in the throes of passion.”
His lips curved. He’d smiled more in the past few hours than he had in the previous year. She still treasured every one. She always would.
“Then I shall have no choice but to attempt to reduce you to wordlessness,” he teased.
From the way his dark eyes heated, it wasn’t entirely a joke. Her body kindled under his intent, hungry regard. She stopped, pulling him down for a long, deep kiss, his hands sliding around her hips.
“Tempting,” she murmured against his mouth. “But you don’t need to saddle yourself with a terrible name for that. So will you be Blaze again?”
He drew back a little, shaking his head. “Corbin named me that. Ash at least I picked for myself. And over the past ten years…” His fingers traced her lips. “I named myself in bitterness. But every time you said my name, it became a little sweeter. No. I will stay Ash. But I thought I might take a surname at last.”
“Now you had really better pick something good,” Rose warned.
His hand cupped her cheek. “I was thinking…Swanmay. If you will have me.”
“Oh,” Rose breathed, her throat choking up. “Oh yes. Yes.”
Breathless with happiness, she pressed up to him. He laughed out loud in pure joy, lifting her clean off her feet. She wound her arms around his neck, covering his face in kisses.
“Fly with me?” he whispered into her ear.
She nodded, too overjoyed to speak. He let her slide down his body again, carefully, until her feet were back on the warm sands. His fingertips left trails of fire across her skin as he helped her out of her sundress.
Her swan’s wings beat eagerly in her soul. Stepping back, Rose shifted.
All the breath left Ash’s body. To her surprise, he folded to his knees, never taking his eyes off her. He’d seen her animal before, many times, but now he was staring at her as if he’d never seen a swan before.
“Rose,” he breathed, delight spreading across his face. “Look at yourself.”
Puzzled, Rose curved her neck—and let out an undignified honk.
Her feathers were no longer plain black. Now every edge burned with golden-red light.
Astonished, she opened one wing, spreading her pinions. That hint of flame flickered around each ebony feather, as though they were about to catch fire.
“Phoenix fire.” Ash’s trembling hand stroked her plumes. Darting sparks swirled into the air in the wake of his touch. “We both share it now. Oh, my Rose. You are glorious.”
No need for an ungainly run-up now; her wings lifted her into the air as easily as thought. With a flash of fire, he shifted as well. He rose with her, trailing flame.
He called out to her, fierce and triumphant, as they spiraled into the sky. Delight surged through her, her feathers blazing even brighter in response. She swooped low, her reflection scattering fire across the sea, and he followed, a burning shadow matching her every movement.
They danced together on the wind, as the sky darkened and the stars came out to watch. With every brush of the Phoenix’s wing against hers, every arc of his body, the mate bond burned hotter, until it was a blazing inferno in her soul.
But she wanted more.
She dove again, this time heading for their cottage. She shifted as she flared her wings, returning to human form. No sooner had her bare feet touched the ground, his arms were around her, scooping her up.
Ash’s mouth pressed against hers, as hot and hungry as his fire. He carried her inside, kicking the door impatiently closed. The darkness of the cottage closed around them.
“Light,” she managed to get out, in between kisses. Her desperate fingers traced his face, his neck, his shoulders, but she wanted to see him too. Wanted to devour him with every sense, touch and taste and sight…
He didn’t reach for the switch. His hands didn’t pause in setting every inch of her aflame, yet light kindled, banishing the darkness. Dozens of white candles crowded every surface, sending up a sweet floral scent.
Rose laughed a little into his shoulder, recognizing that perfume. “Roses?”
“Always,” he breathed, kissing his way down her neck. “Always.”
There were rose petals scattered across the bed too. Their velvety softness caressed her skin as he laid her down on them. She stretched out, watching greedily as he stripped off his clothes for her. The soft glow of the candles highlighted every line of his body. Honed and hardened, weathered by years, marked by scars…and hers, all hers.
“Ash,” she murmured, opening for him.
His strong form covered hers.
And at last, there was no more waiting.
Chapter 28
Three months later…
Rose was in the cellar, counting beer kegs, when she heard the door open. It still creaked, even though it had been completely rebuilt. The contractor had been embarrassed, but in truth, Rose wouldn’t have had it any other way.
“Just a second!” she shouted, scrawling a quick note on her clipboard. Sh
e scrambled out of the hatch, brushing herself down, and hurried into the front room.
“Sorry,” she said as she stepped around the bar. “But we’re actually still closed. The grand reopening isn’t until the evening. Come back at—”
She stopped, a chill going down her spine.
The man standing in the middle of the room, gazing around curiously, didn’t look at all threatening. He was tall but thin, sinewy muscles strung along his lanky frame. His gaunt, lined face looked tired under his bristling white hair.
But his eyes, when they met hers, burned like frozen stars. Cold hung in the air around him.
“Hello again,” said the wendigo.
“Ash!” she yelled.
He’d been upstairs, getting changed from his work shift. He must have been in motion from that first startled jolt of her heart, though, because he burst into the room in mere seconds. His unbuttoned uniform shirt hung askew from his shoulders, the bitter scent of smoke rising from the stained fabric.
He caught sight of the wendigo, and froze. “Ice?”
The wendigo’s thin smile widened, warming. He held out his hand. “Ash. It’s been too long.”
Rose beamed as the two clasped forearms, warrior-to-warrior. “You got Ash’s message, then. He wasn’t sure it would reach you.”
“I did. But I thought I would come myself, rather than send back word.” He released Ash, turning to her. “I wanted to personally thank the woman who finally put an end to Corbin.”
“That was more the Phoenix than me.” Nonetheless, Rose shook his hand. His fingers were, unsurprisingly, ice-cold, but his pale blue eyes were warm. “And I wanted to thank you, for watching over my mate when I couldn’t. Ash told me about your years hunting the warlocks together.”
“It seems I will be hunting them once more,” Ice said, with a hint of a growl. Rose shivered as the temperature dropped noticeably. “I grew complacent. But this time, I and my pack will make sure no seeds of evil remain to take root again.” He cast a sly sideways glance at Ash. “I would invite you to join us on the hunt once more, Phoenix, but I think you have other concerns now.”