Phoenix Reborn (11 page)

“I’m coming,” she moaned as he thrust his fingers deeper inside, revelling in her body’s powerful tension.

The explosion seemed to last for several minutes, and as Ashling opened her eyes, she could see that under the faint moonlight, her body glowed a hint of orange. Hawke had brought out her fire, but together, they were containing it.

She laced her fingers through his hair once again.

“Come here, to me,” she said quietly. “Please.”

He crept up her body, kissing her white skin in a line as he approached. And then, at last, their faces were lined up, his hard length teasing her as his body pressed into hers.

“Is it okay?” he asked. “Can I really have you?”

She nodded.

He guided himself with one fist, and she felt his cock head pressing gently against her opening. Her thighs parted, welcoming him in, encouraging him.

So delicately, so generously, he slid inside her. Her eyes sealed, Ashling threw her head back when she felt his size, his girth, spreading her open as he filled her up. Her hands were on his back now, fingertips digging in as she savoured their closeness. Hawke was deep inside her now, in every sense of the words. He resided in her mind and her body, filled her with new hope and a joy that she’d never felt. Any danger was now forgotten; in that moment she’d become invincible. He was her armour now.

His breath stroked her skin as he drove into her slowly, pulling away, and then again moving into her, savouring the sensation.

He pushed himself up, his torso away from her as his eyes studied hers.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, his muscular arms holding him above her. “I’ve wanted to fuck you for so many years, Ashling Jones.”

She smiled. “So fuck me, Hawke. Claim me now.”

He kept his eyes on her as he drove into her, faster, harder, her hands on his hips, pulling him into herself each time he thrust. It was the most beautiful sort of agony, this. He was so thick, so big. Her body and his were the epicentre of the most exquisite pleasure on the planet.

“Ashling,” he moaned, his voice strained with pleasure. “If we keep this up I’ll come inside you.”

“Good,” she said. “I want you to.”

He leaned down, the muscles on his arms in beautiful, roped forms around her shoulders as he kissed her. And then she felt the surge of heat inside her as he came, his tongue stroking hers, his body expending every ounce of energy to show her what she’d done to him, how she’d destroyed him.

And finally she pulled him down, settling his hot form on top of hers, his chest against her breasts.

“You are my dream girl,” he whispered as he lay on top of her. “And yet this reality is better than any dream I’ve ever had.”

Ashling held him, her arms firmly wrapped about him as she smiled. This was perfection.

This was love.

“
T
hat night — the night that I set Jeremy on fire,” said Ashling, her naked body pressed to his under the cool night breeze. “I was sure that you hated me.”

“Hate you? I could never have hated you.”

“But why did you run away?”

Hawke pulled away for a moment to look into her eyes. “Because I knew then that you were like me. And I knew that I couldn’t ever tell you what I was. Not if I wanted this life of mine. But Ashling, I’m ashamed of what I did. I ran away like a stupid coward, left you suffering alone. I let you hurt instead of risking being found out. I was a stupid, foolish boy.”

“It’s all right, Hawke,” she said, burying her face in his shoulder.

“It’s not,” he replied. “And if you let me I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

“Please don’t tell me that we just made love because you felt guilty.”

Hawke laughed. “We — at least
I —
made love with you because I would have exploded if I hadn’t. I needed you. I still need you. I will always need you. You don’t know, but I’ll show you. Over and over again, if you’ll have me.”

“I’ve never been able to admit that I need anyone,” she said. “Never.” She kissed his chest. “But to need you feels so good right now.”

“Good. Keep needing me. Because I don’t intend to leave you, ever again.”

They lay holding one another in silence for a few minutes before either spoke.

“Why didn’t he pursue us?” Ashling asked. “The Vulture, I mean. Why didn’t he fly after us?”

“I think he’s injured,” said Hawke. “Maybe when I attacked him, I wrenched something in his arm.”

“He’s the Vulture we saw flying the other day, isn’t he?”

“Yes. He is.”

“Why does he want me dead, Hawke?” Ashling asked, her voice trembling. In this moment of joy, it was the one thing that weighed on her. As long as that man existed she’d never have peace, not in Woodland Creek or anywhere. “I’ve always been an outsider, never accepted. And now it’s as though it’s gotten even worse: I’m not even considered worthy of
life.”

Hawke kissed her forehead. “You’re worthy of everything,” he said. “And if anyone — or anything — tries to harm you again, I’ll kill him myself. As for why he wants you dead, I don’t know. Fear is usually the cause of any conflict. Fear of your power, fear of his lack of it. It’s the same reason that no country wants another to possess nuclear weapons; we don’t want them to have greater strength than ours.”

Hawke had taken on a new dimension, one that reminded Ashling of Ranach. He spoke as though he were older than his years, more experienced and wise. Perhaps it was the Eagle inside him that gave him the sort of confidence, the self-assurance of a man who knew whereof he spoke.

He continued. “Shifters are powerful creatures, Ashling. They don’t like to know that someone else is stronger.”

“But where did he come from? I’ve lived here all my life, and I don’t even recognize him.”

Hawke seemed to ponder the statement for a little before replying. “Interesting,” he said. “If what you say is true, then maybe he’s come to Woodland Creek to hunt you. He was looking for you.”

“Well, he should get the hell out,” said Ashling, laughing at the simplicity of the statement. If only the Vulture shifter would do so, her life would become far simpler. Perfect, even.

“Yes. Or
we
should get the hell out. Or both.”

“What do you mean?”

He sat up and looked at her. “You could come with me,” he said. “To New York.”

“I can’t, Hawke. For so many reasons. But the first of which is that a psycho like that would put you in danger, too. I can’t have that. I can’t risk your life, your career.”

“I can,” he said. “And I would.”

“Well, I can’t. And I won’t. I’m serious. I…adore you. So I’m not willing to see you hurt.”

“Then we’re at an impasse,” he said, pressing into her once again. “But I have you naked, and am therefore at an advantage.” He kissed her.

“You’re right; there’s nothing I wouldn’t agree to right now,” she laughed. “But you have a film to make, and I have to sort out the rest of my life, now that I understand who and what I am. I suppose it makes sense in a way — if I’m a bird whose feathers are essentially made of fire, I can’t exactly conceal myself in the secrecy of the shifter world. Maybe the Vulture has a point, after all.”

“No — but you can learn to control your power. You can hide when you need to, just as everyone does. There is no excuse for violence, based only on your being different.”

“Speaking of different,” she said, looking around, “we should probably find some clothing.”

“Allow me,” said Hawke. “Having the eyes of an Eagle is very convenient when it comes to spotting hanging laundry. Wait here, and don’t get into any scraps when I’m away. And remember: you can fly if you need to.”

“Got it. I can fly.”

In a flash he was gone, heading once again for the vast sky. Ashling watched him go, thinking how different her life had become over the last few days. She was the envy of every woman in town and somehow a reluctant threat to every shifter. A part of her wanted to return to anonymity, but a larger part felt empowered, strong. As though nothing could take her on now.

But perhaps that was what the Vulture feared in her. Too much power would be a corruption, and in risking her own identity she risked that of Hawke and of every shifter in existence.

Hawke was back after a few minutes with some clothes: a dress that fit her fairly well, some jeans and a t-shirt for himself. Ashling was sorry to see him cover his gorgeous body as she watched him dress.

“So,” he said, pulling the shirt over his head. “I think we should hike to town. It’s getting light out, and you don’t want people seeing the firebird version of yourself. I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to leave your camping gear where it is for now.”

“That’s okay. I’m hoping not to need it for the near future.”

As they walked the two held hands, discussing their hopes and dreams from childhood, and how differently things had worked out for each of them. Both agreed, though, that whatever negative experience had occurred, everything had led them to this moment, to each other. And for that reason alone, neither had anything to regret.

When Ranach opened the door he threw his arms around Ashling, who grinned in surprise and affection as she hugged him back. He was a kind man, but shows of affection like this were rare from him.

“I had a bad dream — a vision, really,” he said, his voice filled with relief, “that someone had gotten to you, my dear girl.”

“No one got to me, thanks to Hawke,” she said. The young man followed her into the silversmith’s living room, and they sat down next to one another, opposite her mentor. “Ranach, tell me why they’re after me. There has to be more to it than my shifted self.”

“Ah, yes. The Phoenix,” he said. “I saw it in my mind as I slept. Your shifted self is very beautiful, Ashling. And yes, there is more. Things that I’ve never told you, because I didn’t feel them relevant. It’s a sticky business, this.”

“What is?”

“I have never wanted to alter your perception of your parents, who loved you very much. But they, like the rest of us, were imperfect. There was your father: he was strong. Like you, he had the blood of a firebird. One day, years ago, when a young man — another shifter — tried to take him on, he grew angry.

“This was far away, and before you were born — before your parents were married, or had even met. There were quite a few shifters around that day, and as men will do, the two sparred. Had they been regular men, a few punches would have been thrown, perhaps. And ugly words. But your father’s temper occasionally got the better of him, and on that occasion, he blew up — literally and metaphorically. Needless to say, he hurt people.”

Ashling gasped, recalling her moment years before, when she’d burned that young man. Nearly killing him.

“Some were hospitalized for their burns. The man — the one after your father — set himself on a personal quest for vengeance against him. For years he searched for him, not knowing that he’d come here, to the safety of Woodland Creek. When he discovered that your father had settled in this town, the other man arrived and found him and your mother together. He issued threats against them both, said that he and his cronies would seek revenge. Fortunately, the man didn’t know of your existence. And so your parents left you with me in order to protect you, and went into hiding. The one thing that neither could abide was the idea that you could be hurt.”

“My parents — are they still alive? Did that man ever find them?”

“I believe they have evaded him to this day, Ashling, though we are not in touch. We can’t be — it would have been too dangerous for you to know where they were, or for them to seek you out. Your father believed that the man who wished to harm him didn’t know of your existence, as did I. But it seems that word has gotten out now, and that others see you as a threat.”

“I want to find my parents,” she said. “I want to talk to them…”

“It would be a risk,” said the wizard. “Your father is considered a traitor of sorts, you see. Shifters attacking others of their kind place permanent targets upon their own backs. Perhaps soon the time will come for you to find your way to them. But for now, you must stay put.”

“But…”

“Patience, Ashling. Now that you’ve come into your own, you will find your way to them, if you so desire. But we need to confront this threat against you.”

“How are we going to do that?” she asked. “Now they — he — the Vulture — knows who I am — he knows that I can fly. He’s seen it.”

Ranach scratched his chin thoughtfully, his intelligent eyes looking into the distance for a moment before he spoke again.

“It’s possible that he’s the only shifter who wishes you harm — the only one who’s convinced that you pose a threat. Take my word for it when I say that the vast majority of shifters are like Hawke, here: good people who would never look to threaten a fellow shifter. As for the Vulture, he will need to be persuaded to leave.”

Hawke had remained silent, patiently listening to the conversation as he took in the information.

“So what do we do?” said Ashling. “How do we find this man, and convince him to leave me alone?”

“We lure him. And you will have to be the bait.”