Wildfire Phoenix by Zoe Chant

Chapter 18

The drive back to Thunder Mountain was long enough for Blaise to go well past second thoughts and plunge deep into alternating layers of self-doubt and determination. By the time they reached the base, she’d changed her mind at least a dozen times.

Zephyr had been quiet, too. As they reached the point where the path diverged—one way heading to her cabin, the other to his—he stopped.

“Blaise.” He didn’t reach for her. From further up the mountain, an owl called, high and lonely. “I can go back to my cabin, and come to you in dreams. It will still be real. We’ll still be together.”

She almost lost her nerve, then. Her animal wasn’t restless, wasn’t rattling its chains… but it wasn’t subdued, either. She could feel it, eyes glittering in the dark, still and poised. Waiting.

She could stop now. Play it safe and let him go. Watch him walk away and be swallowed up by the night.

“No.” She took his hand, despite the heat burning in her palms. “I want to at least try.”

He resisted her attempt to pull him down the path to her cabin. “Because you think I’ll be lost to the Thunderbird without the mate bond to tie me to you?”

“Partly,” she said, because it was true. “But that’s not the main reason. Even without your animal, or mine, I’d still want to do this. I want you, Zephyr. I want us to be mates, fully, in every way. Not to save you. Not because you need this. But because I do.”

His slow smile lit his shadowed eyes. He didn’t say anything. Just quickened his pace, leading the way now, his hand in hers.

Her cabin was dark, illuminated only by moonlight. The gray, washed-out colors made everything seem ghostly, like the walls might dissolve into blank, swirling fog. She had a sudden, lurching fear that all this was still a dream, and at any moment she would wake up.

When Zephyr kissed her again—gently, tentatively—the soft brush of his lips only heightened her sense of dislocation. She knew the shape of his mouth, the caress of his tongue, the way his breath would catch when she pressed back. Night after night, they’d learned the shape of each other while their bodies lay apart.

It was all so familiar… and yet so different. When she curved her hands around the back of his head, her fingers slid through short, strange hair rather than long, silky strands. He was warmer than he was in dreams, and—oddest of all—a little taller. She had to stretch up an inch further than she expected to meet his mouth.

Do I dream myself as taller than I really am?some part of her wondered, in distant bemusement. Or does he make himself shorter, to match me?

He was more careful in real life, too. She was used to his tongue pushing between her lips in bold confidence, just as she liked—but now he hesitated in between each light, gentle kiss, drawing back a little after each one. His eyes stayed open, fixed on her own.

“It’s okay,” she whispered against his mouth. She nipped at his lip, deliberately hard, and felt his body jerk in response. “You don’t have to hold back.”

His chest heaved, even though he’d barely been moving. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“I don’t want you to stop.” Her own breath rasped in her throat. “I never want you to stop.”

“Me neither.” He kissed her again, harder this time, making her gasp and close her eyes. “But if you need me to, I will.”

It was just as well she didn’t need him to stop, because she wasn’t capable of forming a coherent thought at that moment, let alone words. All she knew was the slow stroke of his tongue, sure and certain, drawing out ever-increasing waves of pleasure.

She needed more, had to feel all of him. She pressed her body against his, hooking one leg up over his hip. Zephyr held her steady, one big hand splayed across the small of her back. His other hand caressed her cheek, stealing her breath away with feather-light touches. Across her face, down her neck, finding the sensitive place behind her ear.

He released her mouth at last, trailing light, biting kisses across to her ear. “Tell me what you want.”

Desire pulsed through her like an electric current. “I want to see you. All of you.”

He pulled away, searching her eyes for a moment. Then he scooped her up, turning to lower her carefully to the bed. With one last kiss, he released her, backing away.

“Lights on?” he murmured.

Mouth dry with anticipation, she could only nod. Zephyr flicked the switch, and she had to squint against the sudden glare. Now this wasn’t a dream, wasn’t even remotely a dream. He was here, hard-edged and real.

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.

Carefulwas 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.”