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She was undoubtedly a witch. Her failed spell had amused me more than angered me.
I tried to put myself in her place, as it had become clear she had no idea who I was, nor possessed any knowledge of the prophecy that had brought us together.
But how did she break through the cloaking spell? Did her status as my mate trigger it? Or more likely, had Athena made it possible?
“I think I’d like that drink now.” On unsteady legs, she walked over to one of the leather couches angled in front of the massive fireplace tall enough that Bex wouldn’t need to duck her head to fit beneath.
With a flick of my wrist, flames erupted above the grate, one of the few tricks that came with being a phoenix shifter. She didn’t so much as twitch at the sudden appearance of fire. Instead, I watched her lips lift at the corners ever so slightly, then she sat down with a sigh.
I opened one of the bottles from the built-in bar. My image in the wall mirror had me briefly hesitating. My wings were less vibrant than last week, and my skin appeared paler. My mate could not have shown up at a better time. I just hoped I had enough remaining to convince her we belonged together.
Tamping down my frustration, I poured two glasses, gave her one, then stood at the end of the couch. Facing the leaded glass window that overlooked the dramatic Highland landscape and ocean cove, I realized how much I missed being here and the hours I would spend flying over our lands.
Lost in thought, I glanced back when she began speaking.
“I’d like to get something straight. I do have a name. It’s Bexley Blackrose, but I prefer Bex. And I’m not sold on this whole mate deal.” She took a sip, then released a gasp before falling into a coughing fit.
Mate is choking!
My mate was in distress.
Both my phoenix and I became frantic at the same time, which is never a good thing, and I acted on instinct. Racing to her side, I turned too quickly. My wings were not fully under my control as I’d been in this partially shifted state for days, and the edge of my right wing knocked into her shoulder, which sent her sprawling onto the hardwood floor. Dammit.
Instead of helping her up, I was on the receiving end of a delicate hand, palm out, warning me off. Bex released words I didn’t understand, but I picked up on the meaning quickly enough. My little witch had tried to blast me backward.
“Stop! Just don’t. I’m good. Nothing broken.” Bex scrambled back onto the couch, smoothed her hair, then glared at me. “I want out of here now.”
“Even if I could open the doors, I wouldn’t. I understand you may not be ready to accept me—yet. But, and this is very important, I have faith in our connection. If you could give me time to prove it, I promise I won’t do anything you don’t want. But I saw how you reacted to me. Felt your response to our kiss. As a witch, I’m sure you know what true magic feels like, Bex. And we have it.”
My mate's breathing had increased as she listened to me. This rise and fall of her breasts mesmerized me, igniting my need to touch her, caress her creamy flesh. I was still hard from our earlier embrace and finding it more difficult to concentrate on anything other than claiming her.
In all the centuries I’d been alive, I had found other women attractive, even felt desire for them, but what Bex made me feel was threatening to take over my every coherent thought.
Finding my mate and discovering my brothers were off fighting without me on the same day split my loyalty to do right by both.
Bex leapt to her feet, stretching to her full height of all five-foot-two-ish, then lit into me.
“Fine, you figured it out. I’m a witch, but are you for real right now? Do you want to know why I’m really here? It’s not for you or whatever your mother, the goddess of war, etcetera, etcetera, was going on about. I’m not quite sure what kind of creature or monster you are, but I belong to one of the most powerful witch covens in America. I’m here to take back what was stolen from us. Not to hook up with, or mate, or whatever, with a hard-bodied, pretty-boy Greek god with wings.”
She. Was. Glorious.
Such fire and passion in a petite, curvy package. I couldn’t have chosen better. At that moment, I decided not to respond. Instead, I’d try a new tactic. If she wanted to pretend she felt nothing for me, I would need to show her how right for each other we are, prophecy or not.
I’d try and get her to believe that all I cared about was freeing us from Athena’s lockdown and discovering where my brothers had gone.
Yeah, I didn’t believe me either. But that creature bit? Not letting that one go.
“I’m no creature. I may shift into a phoenix, but I assure you, I am all male, mate.” I had trouble keeping my frustration from my tone. The Fates may have many flaws, and were on my shit list right now, but I’d give them whatever they wanted—short of our firstborn child, or second, third, or fourth—in tribute for pairing me with this gorgeous, strong-willed female.
Shite.
Getting my mate pregnant was now first and foremost in my mind, just when it may be better to slow down. Try to seduce a step at a time until she was comfortable with me and had a some more time to accept our bond.
“I’m not above admitting my mistakes, ma—er, Bex. Perhaps we can try this again. I’ll not speak of us being mates if you help me find a way to get us both out of here. I’d like to start in the command center where we keep our surveillance equipment. If I can track down where my brothers have gone, then they may be able to help us find a solution. And you can search for this spell book. Perhaps there will be something in it to combat my mother’s power.” Not likely, but giving Bex something to do seemed like a good move toward softening her stance against me and the prophecy.
Her luscious lips firmed out to a thin line and the look in her eyes was skepticism in its purest form. Yeah, maybe the quick flip wasn’t the smartest strategy. Unlike my brethren, I had no experience with women, which equaled zero game in dealing with this one, the most important one.
Would her opinion of us being mates change if she knew I’d never been in a relationship, let alone had sex? Chances were, she wouldn’t believe me. I wouldn’t either if I hadn’t lived the last nine hundred ninety-nine years like a monk, with only my hand to relieve me.
