by Zoe Chant
But this time, she didn’t look down on the cold, charred ruin left in her wake. Instead, she looked up, into her own sun-bright eyes.
“No,” Blaise said to her animal.
Yes.
The Black Phoenix sank onto the shattered remnants of the house like a bird settling on a nest, wings still outstretched over their heads. It was the darkness of a burning oil spill; dense smoke wrapped around a heart of fire. Its feathers were the black of cooled magma. Whenever it moved, hot light bled from beneath them.
This is what we are, it said, in the voice of a volcano. This is what we were always supposed to be.
“Yes,” Zephyr whispered, his dark eyes filled with reflected flame. Though he stood in the burning shadow of those seething, apocalyptic wings, there was no fear in his face; only awestruck wonder. “Oh, yes.”
“No,” Blaise said again. She took a step forward, standing between her mate and the other half of her soul. “We can’t. Not like this.”
But this is what we want. This is what you want.
She could feel it, all that glorious power, burning in her chest like a star. It filled her veins like liquid light. All her life, part of her had been still and cold, imprisoned in darkness. Now, she could finally fly free, into the sun.
Bits of burning debris drifted through the air, tumbling in slow motion. The swirling lights of the fire trucks rose and fell in gentle, pulsing waves, washing frozen firefighters in alternating shades of blue and red. Somewhere below, she knew, a paramedic worked furiously to restart a stopped heart.
She knew the cost of her freedom. She wouldn’t steal this power, shouldn’t even be tempted. And yet… and yet…
“Yes,” she whispered. “I want this. No matter that I know I can’t have it. No matter that the cost is too high. I will always long to burn.”
The Black Phoenix looked down at her, its eyes the brightness of burning forests. There was no anger in that gaze, or hatred, or any human emotion at all. If you got in the way of wildfire, it would burn you. That was just what fire did.
Yes, it said. Always.
“It wasn’t your animal you were fighting,” Zephyr said softly. “It was your own desires.”
“It felt so good to burn.” She closed her eyes, feeling it now, that sense of utter rightness. “I hadn’t known how cold I was until I finally knew the touch of fire. It felt so good, to be whole.”
This is who we are. The Black Phoenix arched its wings, burning pinions spreading wide. This is what we were always meant to be.
“And this is why you couldn’t let yourself get too close to me,” Zephyr said. “Because that felt right too.”
Fire tingled in her fingertips. With a thought, she could unleash an inferno, or call it back. All that power, all that potential, all hers.
“Just like this did.” She lifted a hand, flames curling around her fingers. “When you touched me, when I felt that spark, it brought me right back to this moment. Where everything felt right. When I was so wrong. It’s all tangled up together. You make me feel whole. And that’s the one thing I can never be.”
The Black Phoenix hissed like lava hitting the sea. But we must burn. We cannot remain a shadow, weak and powerless. We must blaze bright to drive back the dark.
She shook her head. “Not like this. Never like this. This isn’t our power, no matter how much we long for it. We can’t do this. Not ever again.”
We must burn! The flames edging the Black Phoenix’s feathers brightened from dull red to angry, spitting orange. We must be a beacon in the night, to guide our mate home. We must save him!
“We will.” She stroked her animal’s neck, settling the incandescent feathers. “I will. I understand now. I know what I have to do.”
“Blaise.” Zephyr touched her shoulder, his expression troubled. “This is complex trauma. I know you’re strong, but this isn’t the sort of thing that can be overcome by one heroic act of willpower.”
“I know, Zephyr.” She covered his hand with her own, squeezing his fingers. “Trust me. You remember the first time you brought me into the dream world, and you showed me the link between us? Can you do that again?”
His eyes still betrayed his concern, but he nodded. He interlaced his fingers through hers, and the black bond flickered into view, linking her heart to his. It was thicker now, shot through with bright fire.
It will not be enough, her animal said.
Blaise already knew that. She turned, tracing the black, burning line of the half-formed mate bond. It didn’t end at her own body, but carried on until it vanished into fire-edged feathers. Her animal anchored that tether, binding her soul to Zephyr’s.
And there was another line, too.
A gossamer-fine thread, bright as spun sunlight. Fire ran down that bond, with the stuttering rhythm of a fading heartbeat. With every pulse, the glowing line dimmed, and the Black Phoenix’s flames licked higher.
She touched that flickering line. “I want to burn. But this isn’t my fire. I have to give it back.”
The Black Phoenix’s hooked beak bowed; maybe in acceptance, maybe in surrender. Its wings folded, the flames wreathing the vast pinions dying to wisps of smoke. Fire surged down the bond in an eye-searing rush, racing back to where it belonged—and then it was gone.
Not gone, her animal whispered in the sudden cold. Never entirely gone. That fire will always be there, and you will always be afraid of it. How can we reach out to our mate, when you have built a wall across our own soul? How can we give him our whole heart, when there is this one part that you insist we must always deny?
The link to her father still shone with a faint, firefly glimmer, the only light in the utter darkness. She closed her hands on that thin, fragile line, feeling its warmth through her gloves. Not a fierce, searing heat, but a gentle, comforting touch, like a parent holding their child’s hand.
“I can’t.” Blaise stretched the bond tight between her fists, offering it up to her animal. “So help me. Take my fear away.”
She couldn’t see Zephyr’s face in the dark, but she heard his sharp intake of breath. He’d figured out what she intended to do.
“Blaise,” he said, sharp and urgent. “Blaise, no—!”
Too late.
Her animal’s sharp, black beak closed over their connection to the Phoenix, and severed it forever.
Chapter 26
“Blaise. Blaise.”
Zephyr couldn’t make out her face in the midnight darkness of her cabin. She lay still as death next to him, limp and unresponsive. Cold with terror, he found her cheek, then her neck. Her heartbeat pulsed against his fingertips; faint, but steady.
He breathed out a silent prayer of thanks. His own heart still racing, he gathered her against his chest, trying to warm her chilled body with his own heat.
“Blaise.” He kissed her forehead, her closed eyelids, her slack mouth. “Blaise.”
Her breath whispered against his lips. He felt her smile.
“Zephyr,” she murmured. “Thank you.”
He pressed his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. “You shouldn’t have done that. Not for me.”
“I didn’t do it for you.” Her hands found his face, brushing away the tears clinging to his eyelashes. Her fingertips felt like ice. “I did it for us.”
“Your hands are cold,” he whispered, voice breaking.
His eyes were adapting to the darkness. He could just about make out her smile.
She drew him back down to her mouth. “Then make me burn.”
He did.
He kissed her, deeply, until her lips were flushed and hot. He took her hands—those strong, beautiful hands—and warmed her fingers in his mouth, one at a time, then kissed heat into her wrists, her arms, her shoulders. He covered her with his body, pressing her down, wrapping her in warmth.
“Blaise,” he whispered, again and again. “Blaise.”
“Yes.” Her strong arms wrapped around him, holding fast. “Yes.”
She
was warm now, her skin hot against his. Not the searing heat of an inferno; something softer, gentler, though no less powerful. She was sunlight and summer, flooding his veins with golden heat.
Her lightest touch drew trails of fire across his skin. He found her nipple, and this time there was no hesitation, no fear. She arched up to him in joyful abandon, her fingers raking through his hair, her lips shaping his name.
He worked his way down, kissing spirals over her belly, her hips. He had never felt anything as soft as her inner thigh. He spread her wide, and learned the taste of her, the shape, exactly how to lick and suck to make her hips lift and her breath catch.
“Zephyr!” Her thighs clamped around his head, her body pulsing hard against his tongue.
Every sound she made stoked his own need. He was on fire, every atom of his body burning with exquisite agony. He couldn’t endure another second, and he never wanted it to stop.
He would have stayed on that sweet, tortuous edge for longer, reveling in her gasps as he brought her to another climax, but Blaise tugged his head back up. With a deft twist, she flipped him round, shoving him back onto the bed and straddling him. He still couldn’t make her out properly in the darkness, but even her silhouette was enough to take his breath away.
“My turn,” she whispered, and bent down.
Her tongue slid over his tip, and all thought vanished. There was nothing but Blaise; the wet heat of her mouth, her soft lips, her weight pinning him down. He’d thought himself on fire before, but now, now he was ablaze. Pressure gathered in him like a storm on the edge of breaking. When she enfolded his length, drawing him deep into her mouth, his whole body knotted tight with the effort of holding back.
“Blaise,” he gasped, hands fisted in the sheets. “I need you. I need you now.”
She released him, with a last long, lingering lick that tore a deep groan from his throat. She straddled his hips, all her glorious heat just inches away. He couldn’t help straining up, every part of him yearning for her.
Her hands found his. He closed his fingers, interlacing them through hers, as she slid down onto him. And there, there she was at last, there he was, in her, around him, together.
He was lost from that first embrace of her silken heat. He thrust up, hard, and felt her fingers clench on his even as her body tightened around him. She rocked, her urgent pace drawing him ever deeper.
And with every thrust, he felt her coming closer; all her fierce brilliance, her bright courage, her shining determination, racing toward him like wildfire. As lightning struck through him, as she clenched around him, all barriers between them burned away. Her soul linked to his like their hands were linked, like their bodies.
“Zephyr!” Blaise cried out as the bond between them blazed bright, unbreakable and eternal. “My mate!”
Chapter 27
Blaise’s last, lingering doubt dissolved as her dad stepped out of the car. She’d feared things would be different between them now that their animals were no longer linked. But those calm, clear eyes met hers, and his mouth lifted in that slight smile, and he was still her dad, just as he’d always been.
She hugged him, the knot in her throat melting away. His arms tightened around her in return, holding her close.
“I felt what you did,” he murmured in her ear. He broke away to search her face. “Is all well?”
“Yes.” She looked across at Zephyr, who’d been pulled into a bear-hug by her mom. The mate bond glowed in her heart like a star. “It is now.”
“Sir.” Zephyr extracted himself from her mom—not without difficulty—and extended a hand to Ash. “I suppose it’s a little late, but I’d ask for your blessing anyway.”
“You have my daughter’s heart. That is all you need.” Ash gripped Zephyr’s hand, looking him straight in the eye. “I know what she has sacrificed for you. Be worthy of it.”
“I can’t.” Zephyr held Ash’s gaze steadily. “No one could. But I will try, with every breath, for the rest of my life.”
Ash’s chin dipped in a slight nod. His fingers tightened on Zephyr’s for a moment, then let go. “All is in readiness?”
“Yes.” Zephyr glanced over at Buck, who was waiting a little way off with most of the rest of A-squad. “You’ll have to wait here, Uncle.”
Buck grunted. “Still think you’re being way too cautious. Any motherloving bird that tries to take up residence in my head is going to find itself booted out with extreme prejudice.”
“You’re still thunderkin, much as you try to deny it. You can’t be too close when I call the Thunderbird, in case you transform as well.” Zephyr went over to Buck, pulling him into a brief hug. “I might have to be away for a while. The Thunderbird won’t be able to rest until all the horned serpents’ spawning grounds are cleansed. But I’ll return as soon as I can.”
“You’d better,” Buck said, his voice even gruffer than normal. He looked over at Blaise, his eyes suspiciously bright in the faint dawn light. “You keep hold of him, you hear me? Bring him back safe.”
Blaise took Zephyr’s hand, holding on tight. “I will, chief. Promise.”
“We’d better get going,” Zephyr said. “The rest of you will need to be back for the start of the work day. If you’re all still willing to come along?”
“Of course,” Rory replied. He smiled at Blaise. “Not that I expect you’ll need us.”
“The more the merrier,” Blaise said. “In this context, at least.”
“Wystan, Fenrir, and Darcy went on ahead, since they can’t fly,” Callum said. “I can sense they’re nearly at the peak. We should go, if we don’t want to keep them waiting.”
Joe looked across at Rory, a challenging gleam in his turquoise eyes. “Race you to the top?”
“Oh no.” Rory held up his hands in refusal. “I know when I’m outclassed. Some of us can’t just ignore gravity.”
“Spoilsport,” Joe said, as beside him Seren transformed into her shark form, hovering in mid-air as though it were water. He clambered onto her slate-gray back, holding onto her dorsal fin. “You want a lift, Zeph?”
Zephyr eyed the floating Great White. “Ah. Thank you, but no. Callum’s already agreed to take me, and I’m more familiar with riding horses.”
Joe shrugged. “Your loss. Hi ho, Silver! Up, up, and away!”
Seren’s black eyes rolled to look back at her mate. A shark’s face wasn’t built for conveying expression, but she managed it anyway.
Joe cleared his throat. “That is, Guardian of the Sea’s Heart, if it pleases you, would you do me the great honor of conveying us to yonder mountain?”
Seren rolled her eyes again, but flicked her tail. She soared effortlessly into the sky, swimming through the brightening dawn.
Callum had already shifted into his pegasus form. He was by no means a small horse, but Zephyr vaulted onto his back with the ease of someone who’d leaned to ride as soon as he could walk.
Zephyr started to lean over to offer Blaise a hand up, then hesitated. “I’ve just realized. You can fly yourself, can’t you?”
Blaise had grown so used to having to suppress her animal, it hadn’t even occurred to her that it would be safe to shift now. She turned inward, looking past the brightness of the mate bond… and recoiled.
Cold, her animal’s voice whispered out of that utter darkness, a scratch of frozen branches on ice. Cold.
She’d never realized that she’d always carried a tiny ember of warmth, hidden in her animal’s heart. Now that part of her was cold, stone cold. Reaching for her animal was like plunging her arm into ice water. Just the thought of wrapping herself in those black, freezing wings made her shiver.
She swallowed, and did her best to smile. “No. I’d rather come with you.”
Zephyr’s gaze lingered on her, black as her animal. For a moment, she thought he was about to say something—but then he nodded, leaning down to offer his hand again.
She scrambled up behind him, with considerably less grace than he’d managed
. Callum waited until they were both settled, then spread his flame-red wings. Blaise felt the pegasus’s muscles bunch beneath her—and then they were up, the world dropping away.
She caught a last glimpse of her parents’ upturned faces as Callum circled over the base. The pegasus turned toward Thunder Mountain, beating his wings hard to gain height. Rory’s golden griffin rose after them, Edith clinging to his back. Wingtip to wingtip, they spiraled up, heading for the mountain’s peak.
The wind raked at her, trying to tear her away from Zephyr. Blaise locked her arms around him, pressing against his solid back. She closed her eyes, feeling his steady, reassuring heartbeat; the heat of his body.
Cold. So cold. No fire. No spark.
Hush. She concentrated on the brightness of the mate bond; that pure, beautiful light. She’d traded an ember for a star, and she would never regret that choice. We have our mate. That’s all we need.
No, whispered her animal. It isn’t.
Blaise set her teeth, pushing her treacherous beast back down. No time to argue with the stupid bird now. Callum broke through a layer of low-lying cloud, and the peak of Thunder Mountain rose before them, like an island in the sea.
Seren and Joe were already waiting for them, on a flat, shorn-off outcropping just above the cloud bank. Callum touched down next to them, folding his wings. A moment later, Rory’s claws scraped on the stone as well.
“Brrr.” Edith slid off Rory’s back, wrapping her arms around herself. She huddled against Rory’s furry flank. “I should have worn my winter coat.”
“This won’t take long,” Zephyr said, dismounting from Callum. He turned to help Blaise down. “Not the actual ritual, at least. I don’t want to admit how many hours it took me to climb this far, the first time round.”
Callum shrank into human form. “I can sense the others. They’ll be here in a minute.”
Sure enough, Fenrir and Darcy bounded up a moment later, their fiery eyes burning in the gray dawn. Wystan followed the hellhounds, his horn casting a silvery radiance over them all.