| |
“Do you regret it?”
Phoenix’s heart had initially leapt at the sound of feet on the stairs, but the female voice wasn’t the one she’d been waiting and hoping to hear. Still, Sarah’s presence was welcome since Mason was busy delivering a sodden but surviving ex-fire mage to the distant reaches of the western wasteland. She didn’t expect her dragon back for hours yet, so talking to his mother seemed like a fine way to fill the time.
“Do I regret quenching my father’s flames for good? Or do I regret asking Mason to fish him out of the reservoir before he died?”
“Either? Both?” The older woman smiled, but she merely raised eyebrows rather than advancing further into Mason’s private domain.
And even though it felt strange to play hostess in someone else’s space, Phoenix plugged in the electric kettle she’d discovered an hour earlier and offered Mason’s mother a choice of precious teas while waving her inside.
“Maybe a little,” the younger woman admitted, once they’d both settled onto a soft sofa facing west across the broad valley. Off in the distance, she could just barely pick out the dark patch where charred earth soaked up sunlight and melted pockmarks into the otherwise solid expanse of white. “Still, it was the only real choice,” she added after a moment. “He’s my father, but he’s a plague on the face of the earth.”
“And you’re the only powerful fire mage left? Or at least the only one that you know of?”
It seemed like an odd question to ask now, after the woman had spent all day setting up yesterday’s invaders with beds and food to calm their aching bones and growling bellies. Most of Malachi’s underlings were able to call hints of flame to their fingertips, but the mages’ powers were weak enough that Zane and the twins hadn’t batted an eyelash when asked to ferry wives and children from Phoenix’s former home into the towers that made up the Aerie. Meanwhile, no one had questioned the sparks of fire that flitted around Phoenix’s head every time she thought about the absent Lord Dragon and their toe-curling kiss.
Given that surprising hospitality, Phoenix had assumed the antagonism between fire mages and dragons ran in only one direction. Now, though, the wiry old woman leaned forward with a stiffness to her form suggesting that Phoenix’s reply was far more important than the latter could possibly understand or even guess.
So the mage answered honestly. “I’ve never met a significant fire mage other than my father,” she said, and was surprised when Sarah’s shoulders sagged in disappointment. “Why, were you hoping for more trouble to show up on your doorstep tomorrow?”
Which is when Mason’s mother explained why the Lord Dragon’s neck had grown so cold as they flew west away from the Aerie. Why he had almost failed to return in time to save Phoenix from her own trap.
“The Fade,” Phoenix murmured, a chill running up and down her spine. The notion that Mason’s inner fire might wink out at any moment was almost more than she could bear, and she appreciated the older woman’s support when Sarah pulled her into an awkward but heartfelt embrace.
“Not that I think Mason has much to worry about now that you’re here,” his mother said with forced brightness. “But Zane could be next...”
“We’ll find a solution. I’ll do everything in my power to protect your sons. I promise.”
And then Sarah’s face lit up with true happiness as her eyes darted toward the window in front of them. A dragon hovered there, all indigo scales and flickering fire. Mason tapped a lever on the side of the building with flame-tipped talons and a massive glass door slid open to invite in a treacherous gust of wind.
“Hang onto the sofa!” Sarah ordered.
But Phoenix was instead rising and running, falling at last into her dragon’s waiting arms the instant he changed from beast to man. She hadn’t been granted a chance to exchange more than a handful of words with the shifter before he left to carry Malachi away from her new home. In fact, if she added it all up, she probably hadn’t spoken more than a couple dozen words to Mason in her entire life.
Regardless, Phoenix’s fire flared so brightly as his lips brushed across hers that she smelled the sizzle of charring fibers. Glancing down, she was mortified to catch sight of twin holes in the carpet at her feet. “Oops.”
Mason’s eyes only crinkled up at the corners, though, as he lifted her off the smoldering floor to spirit her away from the open wall. Only after pressing the matching lever on the interior that closed the space up tight did he finally relinquish his protective grasp.
The air must have dropped twenty degrees while the door was open, but Phoenix’s fire turned her cheeks red and her breath short anyway. Flames twirled around her body, begging to meld with Mason’s fire and never let him go.
But, instead, Phoenix took one small step backward and dug into her pocket for the ring reclaimed from an aged ferry master after the morning’s drama had died down. She couldn’t imagine Mason taking offense at such a minor theft after every other betrayal he’d brushed away without complaint. Still, Phoenix’s hand trembled as she held out jewelry that didn’t belong to her. “Here. This is yours.”
Behind her back, Sarah emitted an abrupt exhalation of air. But it wasn’t a disappointed gasp. More of a romantic, rings-are-being-exchanged-between-my-son-and-a-girl-he-likes sort of gasp. Phoenix had a feeling when such a gesture was less innocent and more associated with an “I do,” there would be major waterworks coinciding with the event.
Only Sarah was right and Phoenix was wrong yet again. Because Mason knelt down at her feet for the second time in twenty-four hours, squeezing oversized jewelry between two glowing fists. And when he opened his hands back up the ring had been reduced to half its size, just the right fit to slide onto a female finger and stay put for as long as a fire mage might want it there.
The mage in question was pretty sure that length of time would be...well...forever.
“Phoenix,” her dragon started. He paused to clear his throat, a mist of steam rising up from abruptly watery eyes. Then he began again. “Phoenix. You barely even know me, so I won’t ask for promises. But you’re wrong. This ring isn’t mine; it’s yours. I hope you’ll wear it so everyone will know that you’re precious to me. You’re my treasure. And maybe some day you’ll feel the same way about me.”
Two days earlier, Fee had thought she possessed no remaining reason to live. But now, as she breathed in Mason’s sweet marshmallow aroma and listened to the quiet sobs of joy from the woman behind her back, Phoenix realized she’d been naive.
Not naive in attempting to win the love of a father who cared for no one except himself. But naive in thinking that just because her own family was irrevocably broken, she could never find a cherished spot for herself in the world beyond Malachi’s domain.
The signet ring slid onto the third finger of her left hand like warm hope kindling inside a cold, dead chest. And as the shifter before her rose to his feet, Phoenix fell into his embrace yet again, feeling every bit like a lump of coal flaring bright as it dropped into a blazing inferno.
Flames encircled them both. Magenta and blue, then red, yellow, and white as dragon and mage power danced and flared in joyous abandon. Together, they were far more than either had been apart. Together, they could take on the universe.
“I’ll tell you a secret,” Phoenix said quietly above the crackling of flames. She leaned in closer, basking in Mason’s warmth, sweetness, and strength. “There’s no need to wait. I’m pretty sure I already love you too.”
***
I HOPE YOU ENJOYED Incendiary Magic! If so, you won’t want to miss Zane’s story—Verdant Magic—now available to buy and borrow on all retailers. Or you can simply turn the page for a sneak peak.
Next, why not dive into my backlist? My first werewolf novel, Shiftless, is FREE on all retailers, and you can download a free starter library if you sign up for my email list.
Thanks for reading. You are why I write.