by Zoe Chant
Mate, whispered a voice like burning embers, from the depths of her soul.
I know. She swallowed hard, trying to ignore the heat pounding through her blood. Be patient. Be still.
“Blaise?” Zephyr was studying her face. “Still okay?”
“Yeah.” Her palms were damp with sweat. She rubbed them on the bedspread. “Just needed a second. Keep going.”
His hand went to the top button of his shirt, but didn’t open it. “We really don’t—”
“If you don’t take your clothes off right now, I swear I will set them on fire.”
Zephyr let out a soft breath of laughter, his expression clearing. “And I know that’s not an idle threat. Well, since I can hardly return these to Callum with scorch marks…”
One by one, he worked his way down, undoing each button with maddening care. Little by little, his shirt slid open, revealing a narrow strip of his muscled torso. It was all she could do not to lunge off the bed and tear the garment from his back.
Finally, finally, Zephyr shrugged out of the shirt. He turned toward her closet, shadows shifting over the swells and dips of his back. “I should hang this up, or it’ll get creased.”
Blaise made a desperate, inarticulate noise. “Zeph.”
He grinned at her over his shoulder, dark eyes teasing. Wadding up the shirt, he tossed it carelessly into a corner before turning back to her. The warm light of the single bulb turned his bronze skin to a deep, rich gold, and highlighted every plane and angle of his torso. All he needed was a plinth and an explanatory card—Perfect Man, sculpture, artist unknown—and he could have been the centerpiece of an art exhibit.
“And the rest.” She fisted her hands in the bedclothes to stop herself from reaching out. They had to take this slowly, no matter how her heart hammered in her chest. “Don’t stop.”
He nodded, but didn’t reach for his belt. For a long moment, he just gazed down at her, as though waiting for some signal to proceed.
“Zeph?” Blaise glanced down to make sure she hadn’t started smoking. Despite the fire coiling through her body, the bedclothes were still smooth and unmarred. “I’m okay. I’ll tell you if my animal starts causing problems.”
“It’s not that.” He looked a little sheepish. “I was trying to make my clothes disappear by sheer willpower. Forgot this isn’t a dream.”
She caught his hand. Lifting it to her mouth, she kissed his fingertips, one by one. His collarbones rose as he inhaled a sharp breath.
“Not a dream,” she whispered.
His voice was a deep, hoarse rasp. “No. Better.”
Then the corner of his mouth hooked up. He glanced down at his dress pants, expression turning rueful. “Though if it was a dream, I wouldn’t be worrying about how to get undressed without ruining the moment. I’m not sure there’s a sexy way to take off socks.”
With a parting kiss, she released his hand. “Just do it quickly.”
He obeyed with admirable haste and a minimum of hopping. When he came up again, he was still smiling, but it faded as his gaze traveled across her body. She was still fully clothed, yet his eyes darkened, all the amusement drowned out by pure want.
Slowly, Zephyr undid his belt, then the button of his dress pants. He stopped there, looking at her again, a silent question in his eyes.
Blaise moistened her lips. She’d seen him naked before, but only in snatched, panicked glimpses. Not this slow, deliberate unveiling, full of the promise of more to come. This was new territory, uncharted by dreams. Her animal was a silent, still presence, utterly focused on their mate.
“Yes,” she whispered.
He pushed pants and underwear down together, letting them fall to the ground at his feet. And there he was, her mate, bare for her at last, holding nothing back. He stood there, cock flushed dark and hard, the muscles of his thighs knotted tight with desperate need.
God, he was beautiful. She could have looked at him all night, if she hadn’t been burning to touch him.
Lying back, she crooked a finger at him. He needed no further encouragement, crawling up the bed to kiss her again. His mouth was hot and hungry, yet he kept his weight braced on his arms, his body at a careful distance.
Careful was not in her vocabulary right now. She dug her nails into the hard muscles of his back, pulling him down. This, this was what she wanted, what she needed. His body, covering hers; the real, physical weight of him, all that muscle and heat and strength. All hers.
Mate, said a voice in her soul, and she couldn’t tell whether it was her animal’s, or her own.
Zephyr’s muscles bunched under her palms. His slow caution was shredding at last, turning to urgent gasps and clenching hands. He buried his face in her neck, breathing something that might have been a curse, or a prayer.
“Blaise.” He kissed her neck, her throat, her collarbones. Every touch was a breath of air over smoldering coals, fanning the flames burning within her. “Beautiful Blaise. Glorious Blaise. My Blaise.”
She arched up to him as he moved down. His fingers slid under the strap of her dress, pulling it down her shoulder. His tongue traced the soft curve of her upper breast, running along the edge of her bra.
When he spoke, his voice was husky. “Take this off?”
Yes, said her animal, wings stretching wide. Yes.
Desperate as she was to feel him against her bare skin, she shook her head. She was already on the edge, fire surging through her veins. The thin silk of her dress hardly covered much, but it was still a slight barrier. She couldn’t risk losing that last wisp of control. Not yet.
“Better not,” she said. “But keep going.”
He didn’t press further. He dipped his head back down into her cleavage, one hand pulling back her bra. Her dress was cut low enough to let him tease her breast out, cupping it in his palm. His lips closed over one nipple.
“Fuck,” she gasped, a bolt of pure fire shooting straight to her core. “Fuck.”
He made a low, rumbling sound, somewhere between a growl and a chuckle. “Is that a request?”
“Yes—no—” She ground against him, lost to everything but him. “Don’t stop!”
He didn’t. He drew her nipple harder into his mouth, making her see stars. His hand slid up her thigh, under the hem of her dress.
“Zephyr.” She bucked helplessly, too dizzy with need to form coherent speech. “Zeph, yes, please—!”
Zephyr released her breast, lifting his head. She made a wordless sound of objection, but he captured her lips, silencing her protest with a long, deep kiss.
Then he drew back a little, just far enough to see her face. His eyes fixed on hers, he slid two fingers under her panties, across her soaking folds.
She was already so close, she almost shattered at that first light, careful touch. She wrapped her legs around him, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She would have thrown her head back, but he caught her chin, keeping her face turned toward his.
“Stay with me,” he whispered, his dark eyes filling her world. “Stay with me, Blaise.”
She couldn’t see anything but him. Couldn’t feel anything but his fingers sliding into her, curling, finding just the right spot. Pleasure thundered through her, mounting ever higher. With every stroke, she felt herself getting closer to the edge, and to him.
Yes. Black wings spread wide, reaching up to the clouds, yearning for the bright kiss of lightning. Yes!
She was flying now, flying on the wings of her phoenix, hurtling into the heart of the storm. And it felt so good, so right, so much like—
Burning, burning at last, fire singing through her veins—
“No!”
She recoiled, a full-body denial, so hard that she kicked Zephyr clear across the room. With a resounding crash, he hit the far wall and toppled to the ground. He lay there, unmoving.
“Shit!” She started to scramble off the bed, then jerked her hands back. Her palms were so hot, just the briefest touch left scorch marks on the sheets. “Zeph? Oh
shit, oh fuck—Zeph!”
To her relief, he lifted one hand in a vague, groggy wave. “I’m fine. Just—give me a second.”
“Don’t move.” She did her best to stuff her breasts back into her dress without sending the whole thing up in flames. “I, I’ll call Wystan. He’ll get Sunrise over here to heal you—”
“Really, I’m fine.” He sat up, wincing as he touched the back of his head. “Don’t worry about me. Are you okay?”
Her animal raged, wings beating in fury. She ruthlessly shoved it back down, sealing it away again.
“I will be.” She sank back to the bed, elbows on her knees, keeping her hands well away from anything flammable. “I guess we should have done this in dreams after all.”
“Move up for a moment.” Zephyr tugged the sheet out from underneath her. He flashed her a pained smile as he wrapped it around his waist. “This reminds me of how we first met.”
“So much for practicing in dreams.” She clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palms. “Here we are, right back where we started. Nothing’s changed.”
“At least you didn’t set fire to the bed this time.” He sat down too, at a careful distance. “Maybe we just went too fast. Perhaps, if we took things slower—”
She groaned. “Believe me, Zeph, that was slow. Pretty sure neither of us could manage to go any slower.”
“I will admit that may have been the limit of my willpower too.” He shifted position, bending one knee to hide the sizeable tent still pitched in his sheet. “Blaise… what happened? I was watching your eyes, and I didn’t see any sign of your animal starting to break free. Right up until you kicked me in the ribs, I thought you were keeping it under control.”
“So did I. But there was a moment, right at the end, where it all just… felt too perfect. I couldn’t tell myself apart from my animal. That’s what made me freak out.”
“It’s understandable. Most of the time, you do have to restrain your phoenix. It must have been disconcerting to find yourself in alignment with its desires.”
Blaise flexed her fingers. They were already back to normal temperature. Her animal brooded sullenly at the bottom of her soul, its back turned on her.
“Maybe I overreacted,” she said slowly. “My animal wants to mate even more than it wants to burn. Maybe I could have kept control, all the way through, if I’d just held my nerve.”
“But you can’t risk that. The stakes are too high.”
“Yeah.” She sighed, leaning back against the wall. “Shit. If only there was a way to be sure.”
Zephyr had been hunched over, gazing at nothing in particular, but his head abruptly lifted. He stared at her, eyes widening.
“Maybe,” he said slowly, “there is.”
Chapter 19
“I can’t sleep,” Joe said from the floor, not for the first time.
Zephyr put his arm across his face, stifling a groan. “Joe, I can’t attempt to guide your visions if you’re awake.”
“I know, I know.” Joe’s sleeping bag rustled. “This is just a lot of pressure. I think I have performance anxiety.”
Seren made a soft, amused sound from her post by the door. “That would be a first.”
“You could rub my feet,” Joe suggested. “Maybe that would help.”
“I am on duty, my prince. I must remain alert to guard your slumber.” Zephyr heard a soft clink of metal on metal as Seren shifted position. He couldn’t see her in the darkness, but he could picture her sitting cross-legged and straight-backed, her sword across her lap. “I wish that more of my armor still fit.”
“Remind me to call my mom in the morning. She’ll send something up from Atlantis.”
Seren’s smile showed in her tone. “I don’t think there’s such a thing as maternity armor, my love.”
“Don’t see why not. The Smiths can make stuff that adjusts from human to dragon-sized, after all. A few inches of variable plate mail should be a piece of cake in comparison.” Joe’s voice brightened with enthusiasm. “Actually, yeah, it would be dead easy. If I had a forge and a couple of ingots of shift-steel, I could do it for you myself. Just have to modify the side straps and—”
Zephyr cleared his throat, pointedly. “Is this helping anyone get to sleep?”
“Sorry, bro. Got a little carried away there.”
“I have to be asleep too, if this is to have any chance of working.” Zephyr turned over, punching the pillow to a more comfortable angle. “Close your eyes and stop talking, Joe.”
“Okay, okay. Good night, Z.”
“Good night. Again.”
Zephyr closed his own eyes. He focused on his breathing, in the same way that he would when meditating. Slowly, his muscles began to relax.
“Does anyone know any lullabies?” Joe asked.
This time Zephyr didn’t hold back his groan of frustration. “Joe!”
“Sorry. I’m having trouble getting in the mood. I swear this has never happened to me before.”
Seren stirred. “Someone comes.”
“I hope they come bearing tequila shots,” Joe mumbled. “Or at least candy. Worst slumber party ever.”
A hesitant, barely audible tap sounded on the door. “Seren? How’s it going in there?”
“It isn’t,” the shark shifter replied. “You might as well come in.”
The door cracked open, letting a pale shaft of moonlight into the blacked-out bedroom. Blaise slipped inside, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.
“Well, guess I’m not missing out on anything after all,” she said, her nose wrinkling as she surveyed the scene. “I thought you’d all be snoring by now.”
“My plan is proving to have a few flaws.” Zephyr sat up, rubbing at his eyes with a grimace. “I don’t suppose you have a copy of Journal of Modern Firefighting to hand?”
“What?”
“I’m reliably informed it’s a powerful soporific.”
“I have a leather-bound copy of Le Morte d’Arthur at home,” Seren volunteered. “I could hit you all over the head with it.”
“Hey, that’s actually not a bad idea,” Joe said. “You’ve still got your stun sword, right?”
“That’s a weapon, my prince. I am fairly certain that using it as a sleeping aid is not medically recommended.”
“At this point, I’m willing to consider all options.” Blaise nudged Joe with her foot. “All I’m managing to accomplish in my own bed is to memorize the cracks in my ceiling. Might as well join you guys here. Squeeze up.”
“Bro, there’s barely room for me down here. The only way you’re joining me is as a blanket. No offense, but you’re not my first choice for snuggles.”
“Here.” Zephyr shifted over, making space for her on the bed. “It’s probably best if we’re all in close proximity anyway. Not that I’ve ever attempted anything like this before, but it’s generally easier for me to manipulate the dreams of people who are nearby.”
Blaise hesitated for a moment, then crawled onto the bed. Wrapping herself in her blanket, she curled up on top of the sheets, keeping a careful four inches of space between them. Her spine was a tense, stiff curve.
Well, she definitely wasn’t going to sleep like that. Cautiously, Zephyr reached out, resting his fingertips between her shoulder blades. Blaise twitched, but didn’t draw away. He drew his hand down her back, lightly, like stroking a cat. She let out a soft sigh, and her taut muscles relaxed a fraction.
“Okay?” he murmured.
“Yeah.” She shifted position, her body fitting to his, though still not quite touching. “Keep doing that.”
He traced small, firm circles down her spine. “Just tell me if you want me to stop.”
“Mm. Don’t you dare.”
Joe’s disgruntled voice drifted up from the floor. “No one offered me back rubs.”
“Oh, for the love of the Sea.” Seren let out a sigh that was more fond than exasperated. “Very well. But if a hideous monster springs out of your dream and devours us all
before I can draw my sword, I’m blaming you.”
Joe’s only response to this was a low, contented hum, like a cello purring. Zephyr kept massaging Blaise’s back in long, steady strokes, feeling her breathing slow. Even through the layers of blankets, he could feel the heat of her—but it was a banked fire, warm and comforting.
Joe’s hum deepened, shifting into a subtle melody. The notes rose and fell like gentle waves. Zephyr closed his eyes, rocked by that slow, quiet sound. As his limbs grew heavy, he brushed a soft kiss against the back of Blaise’s neck.
“Everything’s going to be all right,” he whispered. “See you soon.”
Not clouds, but sea.
Water pressed against him, within and without. It flowed through his lungs, his veins, his mind. He could taste salt on his tongue.
The Thunderbird had never taken him this deep before, but he knew where he was, with a seed’s blind instinct. The ocean, the true ocean, of which all seas were mere shadows.
A presence coiled round him. He held very still. There were predators here, beneath the dreams of the world.
This is not your place.
Blue-green bioluminescence shimmered down sinuous flanks. Scaled coils tightened around him. He looked up into lambent eyes. They were turquoise blue, the laughing blue of tropical seas. He knew those eyes.
You come bearing fire, where no fire has ever been.
A spark of night glimmered between his cupped hands; a tiny black flame. He kept his fingers clamped tight as the current tugged at his hair. This was not a place for any soul to be lost.
Why are you here?
Joe’s eyes, but not his voice. Not his dragon’s voice either, for all that he wore its form. A deeper power spoke through those fanged jaws; a presence that dwarfed even the mighty sea dragon. He was embedded inside it, a tiny foreign soul inside the slow, vast organism of the ocean.
Please, he tried to say, but the word came out as nothing more than a ripple in the water. He had no voice here; no power. Far above, the Thunderbird circled, but lightning couldn’t do more than touch the surface of the sea. He had put himself at the mercy of the tides, and the dragon.