by Zoe Chant
But that was about to change.
#
Connie's roof turned out to have excellent cellphone reception. Chase sat cross-legged on the tiles, impatiently hitting Redial over and over again. Happily, it took a mere eighteen attempts before someone picked up.
“Chase,” growled his cousin's irate Irish voice. “It is one o'clock in the fucking morning.”
“Killian?” Chase blinked. “That you? What are you doing with my father's phone?”
“Handling his business calls for him while he's on vacation. And it took me and your mom eight solid months of arguing with him to persuade him to take this break, so no, I am not putting you through. Whatever crisis you're having this time can wait.”
“No, it really can't.” Unable to sit still, Chase bounced to his feet, pacing back and forth along the ridgeline. “Killian, you'll never believe it. Connie's here!”
There was a moment of stunned silence from the other end of the line. “Your mate?”
“Yes!” Words poured out of him uncontrollably at being able to talk to someone who would understand. “And she's talking to me again, and I proposed, and her dad's in hospital, and I saved her from a fire, and—your detectives were wrong, she was in America, by the way—anyway, she's back now with her plane for the Rydon Cup air race, and there's this shark shifter called Sammy Smiles who wants to kill her because he doesn't want her to win it, but I'm going to make sure she does, so he's probably going to come after me, too.”
“What?” Killian said, as if none of that had made any sense whatsoever.
“Never mind, that's not the important part,” Chase said impatiently. “We had sex!”
“You did what?” Killian sounded utterly appalled.
“And then I messed everything up,” Chase admitted.
Killian heaved a deep, heartfelt sigh. “Of course you did.”
“Which is why I need to talk to my father. The only way I'm going to be able to fix this is if I can tell Connie that I'm a shifter. Once she understands about mates, she'll—”
“Chase, we went through this before, three years ago,” Killian interrupted. “You can tell her once you're married. That's the way it's been for hundreds of years.”
“But I can't persuade her to marry me unless I tell her.” Chase clenched his fist. “Father's the pegasus alpha. I have to persuade him to relax the rules, just this once.”
“You may be the apple of your father's eye—God knows why—but he's not going to put all of our kind at risk. Not even for you. The rules of secrecy are there for a reason, Chase. We can't risk ordinary people finding out about us. Unless you're willing to issue a formal challenge, you can't change our laws.”
His stallion bared its teeth, ears flattening. Fight the alpha. Take the herd. Win our mate!
Chase mentally recoiled from the thought. He loved his father, and wouldn't dream of challenging him. For pegasus shifters, dominance fights were always to the death. Murdering his own father would not be a good start to a long-term relationship with Connie.
Plus, of course, Chase would immediately inherit the entire family business. He'd spent almost his entire life running away at top speed from that responsibility.
“Look,” Killian said more gently, interpreting Chase's glum silence. “I know how much this means to you. Tell you what, I've got a few business things to sort out up here, but I'll come down as soon as I can and talk to her myself, okay? I think she likes me.”
Chase perked up a little. Connie had gotten along well with Killian, on the few occasions they'd met. His older cousin was just the sort of person Connie admired—steady, reliable, serious. As the CFO of Tiernach Enterprises, he'd gained a lot of respect in both the business and shifter communities, which added to his natural air of authority. Connie would listen to him.
“Thanks, Killian,” he said gratefully, sinking back down. “I owe you one. Again.”
Another deep sigh. “That's me. Rescuing you from responsibility, every time.” Killian paused a moment. “If you do win her, does that mean you'll come back? Last time you were dating her, you were full of plans to settle down. Will you finally take your place in the family business, like your father’s always wanted?”
Chase shuddered, shying away from the idea like a horse from a saddle. But still... “Maybe. I like being a firefighter, I really do. But it's a dangerous job. I wouldn't want Connie to be fretting every time I went to work.”
“Come to the Dark Side.” Killian deepened his voice. “We have spreadsheets.”
“Only you could make finance sound even more boring than it actually is.” Chase kicked his feet, gazing up at the stars. “I suppose I’ll have to. That’s how it goes, isn’t it? Find your mate, get married, become responsible…”
“Some of us skip straight to the last one,” Killian murmured.
“I’m grateful to you for that,” Chase said, meaning it. “You say I'm the golden boy, but you're the one who's my dad’s right-hand man. I should be more like you.”
“I don't recommend it,” Killian said, sounding rather wistful. “I haven't found my mate, after all.”
“When you do, I bet you won't have half the trouble I've had.” Beneath him, he could feel Connie's exact location. It was physically painful to resist the way she pulled at him, a throbbing ache deep in his bones. “You've always been able to control your stallion. Not like me. I can't even sit still right now.”
“I'll be down to help as soon as I can. Just don't make things worse, okay? Listen. Why don't you go out, find a club? Drink and dance and distract yourself from all this.”
“No clubs,” Chase said sharply. “No drinking. Not after last time.”
“I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. That was tactless.” Killian paused. “But Chase, you should go find something to keep yourself busy. Otherwise you'll be singing under her window or setting fire to the place or some other harebrained scheme, five minutes after I hang up. I know you.”
Killian did know him. Chase drummed his fingertips on the roof, thinking. He couldn't leave Connie unprotected, but he really would go out of his mind with restlessness if he had nothing to do except stare wistfully at the roof between them. Maybe, if he asked one of the other members of his fire crew to stand guard for him for a short time…
A slow smile spread across his face. “There is something I need to do. But I'm going to need some money.”
“What have I done,” Killian muttered under his breath. “Chase, you asked for an extra two million just six months ago. What happened to that?”
“I spent it,” Chase said. “Obviously. Can I have some more?”
Killian sighed yet again. “How much do you need?”
“Tell you what.” Chase's grin widened. “I'll just send you the check.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Connie stretched as she woke, sleepily reaching out across the bed. Her questing fingers found nothing but air. The mattress next to her was empty.
A jolt of panic raced through her. She sat bolt upright, and had a confusing few seconds staring blankly at the empty space on the bed before her brain fully woke up and overruled her irrational heart.
Of course Chase isn't there. I kicked him out.
I can't believe he actually left.
She realized that part of her had been utterly convinced that he would find some way to sneak back in. At some deep level, she'd been expecting to wake up to his cocky, unrepentant grin and a torrent of nonsense explaining why he'd simply had to spend the night with her after all.
Connie checked under the bed. Still no Chase.
He really is honoring our deal. I slept with him, so now he'll leave me alone.
Just like I wanted.
I should feel happy about this.
Then she heard someone moving around quietly in the second room of the apartment, on the other side of the bedroom door.
Her heart skipped a beat, even as she buried her face in her hands and groaned. Of course he hadn't actually left. No doubt
he was filling her tiny combined kitchen/living room with roses or iguanas or God only knew what he considered to be a romantic gesture.
Without bothering to pull on her robe, Connie marched over to the bedroom door and yanked it open. “Chase, I told you—”
It wasn't Chase.
Connie recoiled so hard she bruised her naked butt against the door handle. “Who the hell are you?”
The man turned quickly at her shout. He was tall and muscled, with short brown hair in a vaguely military cut. There was something about his dark eyes that made some deep, primal part of Connie's psyche cower back in instinctive fear. Whoever he was, this man was dangerous.
“Chase!” Connie grabbed the first thing that came to hand—a pillow—and flung it at the intruder. “Help!”
The man ducked the pillow, but Connie had already seized her bedside lamp. Brandishing it like a baseball bat, she charged him, swinging for his head with her full strength.
Reflexively, the man flung up one hand, seizing the body of the lamp. White fire flared. Connie yelped, dropping the lamp as the suddenly hot metal bit her skin.
“Please,” the man said quickly, holding up both hands. “Do not be alarmed. I mean you no harm.”
Wide-eyed, Connie stared at the scorched lamp now lying on the carpet, then back at the man. “What are you?”
“A friend of Chase.” The man sighed, rubbing his face. “I am very sorry, but I am afraid I have no choice but to start this conversation again. Please forgive me.”
Connie would have backed away from him, but she was abruptly frozen by his burning eyes. Terror-stricken, she could do nothing to resist as he reached out to touch her forehead.
Fire flared.
Connie blinked. There was a strange man in her front room.
However, he was kneeling on the ground with his eyes closed and his hands in the air. He looked more like a hostage than an intruder.
“Chase asked me to guard you while he ran an errand,” the man said, very rapidly, as she drew in her breath to yell. “He was worried that Sammy Smiles might attack you in your sleep. I am Fire Commander Ash, of the East Sussex Fire and Rescue Service. May I show you my identification?”
Connie eyed him warily, casting around for a weapon. For some reason, her bedside lamp was lying in the middle of the floor. She picked it up. The metal was oddly warm in her hand as she held the lamp high, ready to bring it down on the man's head if he was lying. “Okay. But slowly.”
Connie tensed as the man reached into his jacket, but true to his word he just pulled out a leather wallet. He flipped it open, silently displaying the metal shield inside.
Feeling a little silly, she lowered her impromptu weapon. “Oh. Um. Nice to meet you, Commander Ash. I'm sorry if I startled you. Chase didn't tell me you were coming.”
“So I gathered,” Commander Ash said, a touch grimly. “I believe I shall have words with him about that.”
He was still on his knees, although he'd lowered his hands. “Uh, you can get up now, if you want,” Connie offered. “I promise I won't try to brain you. Would you like some coffee?”
Ash cleared his throat, eyes still closed. “Ah. Perhaps you would care to put on some clothes first?”
Connie looked down at herself.
“Yes,” she said, her voice going rather higher-pitched. “Yes, that would be a good idea.”
#
Even with clothes on, conversation with Ash proved to be an uphill struggle. The Fire Commander was perfectly polite, but so blandly noncommittal that Connie gave up on questioning him at all. He seemed content to sit in utter silence, gazing thoughtfully into the depths of the coffee she'd offered him. He exuded such an intimidating aura of reserve, Connie found herself involuntarily edging backward in her chair.
Ash abruptly looked up from his contemplation of his untouched coffee, his head turning toward the door. A moment later it slammed back on its hinges, and Chase bounced into the room.
“Oh good, you're up!” he said cheerfully to Connie. “I see you've met my Commander.”
“Twice,” Ash said under his breath. He looked hard at Chase.
Chase's grin slid off his face. Connie had an odd sense of some unspoken communication going on between the two men for a moment.
“Oh,” Chase said in a small voice. He turned to Connie. “I'm sorry about that. Next time I'll remember to warn you.”
“Next time?” Connie rolled her eyes. “Next time I throw you out of my apartment, don't take that as meaning I need you to provide someone to replace you.”
Chase's grin reappeared. “Ah, so there will be a next time?”
“Next time is about to be right now, if you don't stop smirking at me,” Connie informed him.
Commander Ash got to his feet. “I believe that my presence is no longer required.”
“It was, uh, nice meeting you,” Connie told him, with as much sincerity as she could muster. “Thank you for watching over me, anyway. Sorry for threatening you with a lamp.”
“Please accept my sincere apologies as well,” Commander Ash said, which was rather weird given that she'd been the one threatening him. With a last inscrutable look at Chase, he left.
“You tried to hit Commander Ash with a lamp?” Chase sounded utterly tickled.
Connie glared at him as she gathered up the coffee cups. “You're lucky I didn't actually take a swing at him. Honestly, Chase, what were you thinking?”
“I didn't mean to surprise you. I thought you'd never even know he'd been here.”
Connie dumped the coffee cups into the sink with a loud clatter. “Really not helping your case, you know.”
“That came out a little different to how I intended,” Chase admitted. “I only meant, I planned to get back before you woke up. But I got delayed.”
“Delayed doing what?” Connie said suspiciously, her back to him as she rinsed out the cups.
“Shopping,” Chase said, as if this was a perfectly reasonable thing to have been doing before dawn.
“Shopping?” Connie turned around to stare at him. “What were you—”
She stopped mid-sentence. Chase was down on one knee, holding up an engagement ring with an enormous solitaire diamond.
“Constance West, will you marry me?” he said, utterly seriously.
Connie threw up her hands. “Chase, I've turned you down twice already. What on earth makes you think I've changed my mind?”
Well, apart from the absolutely incredible sex...
Connie stomped down on the traitorous thought. Fantastic sex couldn't make up for Chase's reckless, unreliable behavior. They couldn't spend all their time in bed.
“I didn't really ask properly before. Now I am.” He held up one hand, forestalling her interruption. “Please, just hear me out. I love you, Connie. I always have, from the moment we first met, and I always will. I know you think that's crazy, but it's true. And there's a very good reason why I know it's true… but unfortunately, I can't tell you what that is until after we're married. So: Will you marry me?”
Connie stared at him.
“I also chartered a jet to Vegas,” Chase added. “So we can get married today, I can tell you everything, and then we can still be back well in time for the race.”
“You,” Connie said slowly, “are certifiably insane.”
He didn't move. “If you don't like what I tell you, then we can get an annulment straight away. Please, Connie. Marry me, and I swear this will all make sense. Trust me.”
Connie pinched the bridge of her nose, taking deep breaths until she could trust herself to speak without yelling. “No. I am not marrying you. For God's sake, Chase, we've barely even spent any time together!”
“We've known each other for three years,” he argued. “Lots of people get married in less time than that.”
“Three months over three years! The time when we weren't in contact doesn't count!”
“It does to me,” Chase said softly. “I thought of you every day.”
And I thought of you every night…
“Fantasies of some idealized versions of each other don't mean anything,” she said ruthlessly. “You don't know me, Chase. No matter how much you think you do, you don't. I mean, you didn't even know that I don't like diamonds.”
Chase's expression inexplicably brightened. Carelessly tossing the diamond ring aside, he rummaged in his pocket.
“Constance West,” he said, pulling out a vintage gold ring set with three fabulous fire opals, “will you marry me?”
Connie's mouth hung open.
“I did remember that you'd mentioned once that you didn't care much for diamonds,” Chase explained, offering her the ring. “But I know you also like traditions, so I thought I'd better try a very traditional ring first. Anyway, this one reminded me of that pendant you used to wear, so I thought you might like it.”
“You bought two engagement rings,” Connie said weakly. “In the middle of the night.”
“Well, I found a jeweler who lived above her shop, so then it was just a case of shouting loud enough to wake her up. And then convincing her that it would be worth her while to open up.” He looked a little sheepish. “I, um, actually bought five rings. I also have one with your birthstone, one with emeralds to match your eyes, and an Irish Claddagh ring.”
Connie stared at him yet again.
“I have difficulty saying no to pretty things,” Chase admitted.
Connie folded her arms. “Well, we both know that’s certainly true.”
Chase winced, but didn’t back down. “Connie, I'm deadly serious about this. I need to marry you. Please?”
For a mad moment, Connie entertained the idea of actually going through with it, just to finally get an insight into his peculiar head. Maybe there was some great secret that would explain everything…
Her common sense ruthlessly crushed the silly thought. Of course there was no so-called secret, no rational reason for his erratic behavior. If he wasn't genuinely mentally ill, then he had to be just playing her, in some private, twisted joke.