Phoenix Rising

PHOENIX RISING
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

COVER ART
by Julie Nichols https://www.facebook.com/WallpapersArtworkAndFanArt/

© 2014 Heather R. Blair

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

PHOENIX

RISING

By

Heather R. Blair

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Epilogue

Author Notes

‘What’s past is prologue.’

~William Shakespeare

‘The past isn't anything to be afraid of, Kels.’

Her mother's voice rang in her ears along with the click of her high heels as she walked down the wide black tiled hallway to her office. But Kelsey Daeger knew, unlike her poor mother, that was a lie.

The past could destroy you, sink its' teeth deep and rip out your heart. Or your soul. She didn't know what was worse. But she knew damn well the man waiting in her office could do both. She wasn't looking forward to facing her past.

Miles was most definitely her past.

Kelsey swayed ten feet from the door, suddenly overwhelmed by the thought of this meeting. She sank back against a pale green wall, the hallway dim in deference to the unusual visitors that frequented here, and ran a shaky hand through her sleek dark hair.

It was essential she calm herself before she had to face Miles. He hadn't come here to listen to her excuses, to finally hear her side of the story after all these years.

There was a part of Kelsey that longed to tell him, to shake him and scream at him, to make him listen. As if anyone could
make
Miles Rousseau do anything.

Kelsey played nervously with the delicate silver chain around her throat and then tucked it out of sight under the soft, high collar of her sweater. He was here for business. She had to respect that. He'd made his choice long ago. Just as she had.

Kelsey took a deep breath and straightened her spine. She'd done this, built
all this
. Phoenix Inc. The name a cliché maybe, but apt, since she'd torched her first attempt at life so thoroughly and raised something new out of the ashes left behind.

Something that was better and stronger.

Her company employed almost a hundred select people, people who would otherwise have had a very difficult time in the world. Misfits all, just like her. Though misfits not without power and purpose. The paras had accomplished a lot of good through her company.

Kelsey reminded herself of that as she reached for the solid brass door handle and turned it. She
was
good now. She had honor now. Honor regained by the skin of her teeth maybe.

Tarnished honor was better than none.

Kelsey opened the door and faced the man she had betrayed almost eleven years ago. The Marquis of
Saintonge,
Miles de Rousseau, arguably the most powerful vampire in the world.

He was smiling, his hand open and outstretched. He would have known the instant she touched the door.

Damn him.

"Hello, Ms. Daeger." Miles didn't look at all the way most people envisioned vamps. He wasn't pale, he didn't have the prerequisite dark hair of gothic novels. His skin was golden, both it and his tousled tawny hair looked sun-kissed, though Kelsey knew very well that they were not.

And hadn't been since around the time Joan of Arc was hearing voices.

Of course, she also knew better than to expect a vampire to look like Marilyn Manson or even Robert Pattinson with a heavy dose of white sparkly makeup. Vampires were virtually indistinguishable from humans.

Unless you weren't an ordinary human yourself.

Kelsey was far from ordinary, though she was definitely human. She expected to feel the smooth psychic wall around him, sealing her out. It still gave her a twinge. Long ago, he'd never bothered. Back when he trusted her.

She let her fingers squeeze his for an instant and willed herself not to dwell on the touch of his skin against hers. She stepped back quickly, her eyes falling on the two other men in the room. Her men.

Jules Gentry, whom most people considered merely Phoenix’s muscle - to their sometimes eternal regret - was leaning all 6 feet, 5 inches, and 250-plus pounds against Kelsey's desk. He looked like a younger, even more fashionable Ving Rhames, every solid inch of him encased exquisitely in Armani. It was in Jules’ mind where his true power lay, but the intimidation of physical presence was an asset he wielded with finesse.

Jules had been her partner in Phoenix Inc. for ten years and her best friend for most of her life. The partnership was quiet, per mutual agreement. He preferred people not know that they had built Phoenix together, and Kelsey went along because she knew he was right. It gave her a more powerful public persona not to be tied to a man in leadership of the company. And it gave him the anonymity he craved and that had continually worked to their advantage.

Sammy, who could have been Jules’ antithesis, was texting away on his Blackberry in the chair beside the one Miles had just vacated. Wiry, short, clad in a flannel-button-down and baggy jeans, his eyes bright and brown behind the horn-rimmed glasses that any typical computer geek was required to sport. His brain power was on far more obvious display than Jules' and of a different sort altogether.

However, like everyone else in this room, Sammy couldn't be stereotyped. He was a chick-magnet like Kelsey had never seen. She was sure it was one of his many girlfriends he was texting now. She cleared her throat and gave him a pointed look that had him cheerfully tucking the phone in his shirt pocket and looking at her expectantly. Jules was giving her the same look, his thick eyebrows raised in question and something more.

Belatedly, Kelsey realized she hadn't responded to Miles' greeting.

Only one person at Phoenix knew about her and Miles, and the depth of concern in Jules’ eyes somehow centered her.

"Please, Mr. Rousseau, take your seat." She said, glad but somehow irritated that Miles hadn't used her first name. She smoothed her skirt as she slipped behind her desk as if her faux pas hadn’t happened. "Let's get straight to your reason for contacting Phoenix. I'm sure it must be important or you wouldn't be seeking our services."

By that she meant, her services, in particular, and Miles knew it. His smile thinned as he took his seat. His blue eyes were unreadable as he studied her. He was dressed as casual as ever; crisp white button up, jeans and his old biker boots. Despite all his money and power and the dictates of French society, Miles rarely dressed up unless the occasion absolutely demanded it. Not dressing up for this occasion could be an insult. Or it could be nothing. She’d never been able to completely figure Miles out and she doubted anyone ever would.

Least of all her.

He looked as if he'd walked out on her only yesterday, the eternally unchanging vamp. Kelsey's hands tightened under her desk, knowing he was seeing the definite change a decade had wrought in her own face and form and trying to tell herself she didn't care.

Not that Kelsey hadn't aged well, even very well. At thirty-four she may not have the delicacy and dewiness she'd had at twenty-three, but she'd kept her curves and tendency to plump up under control with hard exercise and taken good enough care of her pale golden skin that people still thought she was on the sunny side of thirty.

Though it took monumental effort to appear at ease, Kelsey raised her eyes to his. Miles wasn’t merely looking at her, but into her. Her powers thrummed lightly keeping him out. She knew she was a blank page to him, at least psychically. That knowledge didn’t keep the probe of his dark blue eyes into hers from being unsettling.

He broke contact first and glanced at Sammy, then at the tall, black wall that was Jules.

"While I understand why you want your associates in on our meeting, Ms. Daeger, I have to ask that our first briefing be in private.” He bit off a smile that she knew was not in the least genuine and the tinge of France in his voice thickened. “If you please."

Jules straightened slowly, menace uncurling. Jules was fiercely prejudiced towards vamps, had been since he was a child. Not to mention this
particular
vamp. They may have never met, but Jules had cause to hate Miles, and cause to be overprotective of her where Miles was concerned.

"Easy, Jules," Kelsey murmured, waving a hand. "Is this absolutely necessary, Miles?" She refused to call him by his title and she was sick of this fake formality between them.

And she hated that her voice had the barest hint of a plea in it.

"I am afraid so, yes. The assistance I require of you is of a volatile nature and I want your agreement to accept my proposition before I entrust the details to other ears."

"Fine." She said over Jules' grinding his teeth. Sammy bounced up, already pulling his Blackberry out as he nodded at them on his way out the door. Sammy knew his boss was more than capable of taking care of herself.

Jules, with his greater weight of knowledge, went slower, his eyes offering promises of pain and dismemberment. Miles inclined his head in mock solicitousness as the big man vanished.

The door clicked shut, leaving Kelsey alone with Miles, one of several men in the world who would feel utterly justified in killing her.

She wondered if that was exactly what he planned to do.

‘The only difference between the saint and the sinner is that every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future.’

~Oscar Wilde

"I'm not going to kill you, Kels Bells. Yet."

Kelsey raised her eyebrows, irritated he could still read her so well, not to mention the use of his old nickname for her was a shot straight to her gut. "How civilized."

"Hardly." There was an edge to his voice not concealed by perfect dictation.

Abruptly weary of the mounting tension in the room—though heaven knows she had expected it—Kelsey waved a hand. "I'm going to assume that threatening my life is
not
the reason you are in my office, Miles. Can we cut to the chase? Jules is gonna have a coronary if I don't open that door soon."

"I am not worried about him," Miles' nose crinkled dismissively.

"But
I
am," Kelsey stressed. "I don't want you to hurt him." Jules was a force to be reckoned with, but Miles was…well,
Miles.

He flashed her a sharp contemplative look. The tactile surge of vamp power in the room made the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand straight up. She may be impervious to its power, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t
feel
it. It hovered over every inch of her body like a static electrical charge.

"So protective. How
interesting.
"

Fighting the urge to shiver at the predatory gleam that lit Miles' sunny blue eyes, Kelsey told herself it wasn't jealousy she heard in his voice. That would be absurd.

"I'm protective of all my employees—just as you taught me." She managed to get the words out with an attempt at smoothness, then her voice truly steadied in a spat of anger.

"What is the point of this, Miles? Me, you can threaten. I know I deserve it. But leave the people under my protection alone, damn it!" She started to stand.

"I would have thought you'd be above coming here just to bully me, but—"

His fingers slipped around her wrist, cool and strong. The unexpected skin to skin contact seared though her, tumbling her back to Paris in a fiery instant….

Miles above her, pinning her to the bed with a laugh.

His blond hair mussed, black shirt unbuttoned to the waist, the tantalizing trail of dark gold hair gleaming on his flat belly. The smell of his bedroom, polished oak and fire.

The hot taste of him on her tongue. The hard feel of his leg sliding between both of hers, spreading her….

Kelsey had to force herself to focus solely on her breathing, returning to the office bit by bit, color by color and sound by sound, her heart racing.

Holy crap.

Had that been her memory—or his?

His grip tightened, and she knew he felt the rapid-fire beat of her pulse before he released her.

"Sit the fuck
down
, Kelsey.” His words were a vicious hiss.

His memory then. And he'd drawn her into it with him. Had he done it on purpose…or inadvertently?

What the hell did it matter?
Kelsey thought.
If not one of
his, it could easily have been one of mine.

God
.

Fucking
god.
Had she actually forgotten what this man was capable of doing to her
?
If so, she'd just gotten one hell of a reminder.

Kelsey slid back into her chair, hating the ache that had tightened her belly.

“I didn’t come her to bully you.
Bon dieu!
This is… It's difficult. Fucking harder than it has any right to be.” He ran a hand through his tawny hair and glared at her.

Kelsey stared back, her mouth open.

‘Difficult’?

When the time had come, Miles had cut her out of his life like a goddamn surgeon.

He had ruthlessly wielded a scalpel, albeit by other hands than his own. He had never directly confronted her, never given her a chance to explain, to deny, to plead. Nothing. Why would he? The proof had been irrefutable.

In all the years since, she had imagined seeing Miles again many times. Mostly those daydreams had quickly turned to tears or nightmares. Never, though, had they included a Miles that might find it ‘difficult’ to be around her.

Miles shot her a look that reminded her that while he may not be able to penetrate her psychic defenses, he was still a damn perceptive man. He knew she was puzzled and he knew why—and it was royally pissing him off.

Miles and pissed off were so
not
a good combination.

Miles steadied himself. Rather, he ordered himself to quit being an ass and get on with it.

Putain!

Control was what was needed. Miles had known that when he reached out to her. Ten years ago he had come closer to killing her than any human in over a century.

There was a reason he had pushed her so cleanly out of his life. It was more than enough that he'd let her keep living at all. He forced her away and tried like hell to dismiss her from his thoughts as well. He'd intended that separation to be forever.

Or so he'd tried to tell himself.

Phoenix Inc., however, had not been something he could ignore, particularly with it being so similar to his own work in Europe. At first, he'd been sure it was one of her lies. He had been absolutely prepared to destroy the fledging company when it came to his attention almost seven years ago.

Hell, he would probably have enjoyed crushing it.

His probes into the business however, had confirmed it was absolutely legit. Phoenix protected paras. More than that, it focused and empowered them. Phoenix Inc.did specialized consult work of all sorts for both the American government and other
s,
not to mention private interests, and an impressive amount of pro bono work as well.

Paras of all sorts were in high demand for scientific functions, of course. Nothing like having a telekinetic para handle specimens safely from behind glass, with perfect dexterity and no chance of robotic malfunction. Their value in security work was also legendary. Psych paras, like Kelsey herself, also handled human capitol vetting—including background and mental health checks—and were slowly overhauling the justice system.

There were literally thousands of untapped applications for the para’s powers and Phoenix Inc. had gotten its’ fingers into almost every pie before anyone else. Not to mention, they had been working diligently for years, both thorough legal actions and outreach programs, to eradicate prejudice and fear. They were largely successful, changing public perception, even enacting some impressive legislation and allowing paras to step out of the shadows at last.

In essence, she was doing with paras almost exactly what he'd done (and continued to do) with shades. Hell, she'd even gone further than him in a lot of ways. It was pathetically obvious she was trying to emulate him—and redeem herself.

Baise.
That was never going to happen. Not to his mind.

But it wasn’t in him to destroy something that was lifting others up. He had a weak spot for outcasts and misfits of all kinds. Once upon a time, he'd had a weak spot for Kelsey, too.

His heart had hardened considerably since then.

If he hadn’t needed her help so desperately…

Miles gave the manila file he'd brought a graceful toss, so that it landed dead center of her desk, wafting up the scent of lemon pine cleaner as half a dozen pictures fanned out onto the forest-green suede blotter.

Kelsey blinked from him to the colorful glossies. He saw when the violent content of the photographs began to sink in, but she didn’t turn away. Six photos, six different vamps, evidenced by the scorched nature of the bodies, sickeningly charred around the extremities. Though it wasn't the sun that had killed them. Each had a glaring hole where their heart had been, as if someone had reached inside them and…

Who ...?
What
could be strong enough to do that to a vamp?

He could practically see her human mind, far more agile than most, ask the question and reach for the first and most reasonable—if entirely wrong—conclusion.

Kelsey bent her head, focusing on the grisliness. Trying to make sense of it. Her psychic abilities were useless on objects. That was Jules’ forte, but this wasn't really such a puzzle, once she was able to clear her head. Shoving at a thick lock of dark hair that was falling over her eyes, Kelsey looked up at Miles.

"You want me to track down a rogue?"

Miles cocked his head and swept the pictures back into the folder.

"I want you to track down something, Kelsey. But this nastiness was not done by a rogue vampire." He leaned forward, his elbows on the edge of her desk as his gaze bored into hers. "A human did this."

It was totally inappropriate, but from sheer nerves, Kelsey laughed.

"Be serious, Miles."

"I am." He studied her, his face uncomfortably close. She leaned back, running her fingertips restlessly over the glass-smooth mahogany of her desk. He smiled thinly and Kelsey knew her skepticism was plain on her face. "But you want to tell me why I am wrong, no doubt."

"Easy. No human could get close enough—"

"What about you?" Miles cut her off abruptly, his tone like ice and Kelsey swallowed. He was right. Her peculiar mix of psychic abilities gave her the ability to lock on to someone and find them without regard to distance. She was virtually impervious to most shades’ own innate psychic radar and with the right approach, that could render her intentions invisible to almost any shade; vampire, were, wraith or otherwise.

That was, in fact, exactly what her old job had required. The reason she had been ‘recruited’ by a rogue branch of the government at age thirteen.

If
by ‘recruited’, you meant kidnapped, tortured, coerced and subjugated.

Thinking of the Cleaners while looking into Miles' eyes made her feel sick. Kelsey forced down the nausea, trying to focus on this problem, not the old one.

"I could," she admitted.

"You
have
," Miles corrected.

Though it hurt, Kelsey met his gaze.

"Yes, Miles. I have," she agreed quietly, "but I didn’t kill you, did I?"

He shrugged in that quintessentially French way of his; head tilt, palms up, the slight lift of those powerful shoulders, dismissing her so thoroughly it burned.

“You weren’t strong enough.”

Kelsey wondered if that was what he really thought, and resisted the urge to shudder. Hadn’t he known her at all?

She swallowed again.

"And this human is? Strong enough? To do that—" she jabbed an impatient finger at the file in his hand, “—to something ten times stronger than themselves? Miles, c'mon, a human can't do that to another human, let alone to a—"

"You'll find that is not necessarily true." Miles interrupted her again, making Kelsey frown. His manners had always been impeccable, and tended to get more formal the tenser the situation. She was right, he
was
rattled. Very. By he
r—
or the situation?

Both possibilities were unsettling.

"What's not?"

He sighed. "Certain so-called ‘disciplines’ of martial arts claim to teach the ability to snatch the heart from the chest—" Kelsey snorted, but Miles ignored her, "—and though I had my doubts, I saw a demonstration on the subject and it is possible, Kels."

She raised her eyebrows. "You attended a heart-ripping demonstration. Where do they hold that sort of convention?"

"In very secret, very hard to reach locations and I parted with an obscene amount of money just to hear about it. To actually get in I had to use sanget."

"Didn't that make them nervous?" Sanget was an ancient gold coin currency used exclusively by older vampires and a few of the other shades, demons in particular. It was rare and said to curse any human that accepted it.

More likely than curses, in Kelsey’s opinion, was that humans who choose to do business with vampires and demons met a bad end for entirely more practical reasons.

Miles laughed. "Hardly. I think they were awed. You should remember the type."

Kelsey remembered.

There were always those humans fascinated by anything to do with vampires, who were drawn either by romanticized ideals or worse, by a bloodthirsty psychosis of their own. Miles hadn't entertained such lackeys, but many he associated with did. Vampires liked to call such humans ‘convenience food’.

In fact, many of Miles’ friends had considered her a sort of variation on this dish. Until Miles rather forcibly set them straight. She imagined that had embarrassed him later.

Kelsey winced at the thought and Miles seemed to read something he didn’t like in her expression. He got to his feet and wandered restlessly to her paintings, which since she wasn’t a billionaire like him, were actually high-quality prints. Kelsey hadn’t entirely lost her taste for art after Paris.