Fire Danger

A love that’s fated to go up in flames.

Elementals’ Challenge
, Book 1

All her life, a faint memory of her parents and fire has glowed at the back of Rachel Quinn’s mind. With her parents long dead, there is no one to clarify what it means.

When a gorgeous winged man rescues her from a pack of werewolves, something flares to life inside Rachel. Suddenly she can see the paranormal world around her, a world unseen by mortals. And far more complicated.

When Phoenix’s massive orange-and-red wings erupt from his back, he knows his Challenge—an age-old battle against his Demonos counterpart—is upon him. Heeding Rachel’s cry for help adds a layer of complexity never seen in any previous Challenge.

Rachel, they discover, isn’t entirely human. Like Phoenix, she commands fire. Fire calls to fire, and soon they are succumbing to a fierce attraction. As the Challenge bears down on them, though, Phoenix must discover what the Demonos has in store for mankind. If he doesn’t succeed, the entire world will be swallowed up in darkness—and Rachel along with it.

Warning: When the mortal and the Elemental worlds collide, the resulting smoke could cause heart palpitations, teary eyes, and a sudden need to fan yourself. Keep a cooler of cold drinks handy.

Fire Danger

Claire Davon

Dedication

Many thanks to John and Stacey for your encouragement and subtle nudges. Also to the contest readers and betas who believed in Phoenix and Rachel. Thanks to you all!

Chapter One

“Stay back!”

The whoosh of his wings manifesting startled Phoenix, knocking him off-balance. They gathered behind him, sticking up from his body. Phoenix immediately crouched, his hands in front of him, trying to identify the cause of the danger.

His wings had so consumed his attention that it took him a minute to realize there was a voice in his mind that rang like a bell. He jerked to a standing position.

“Get away from me!”

The mental voice was shrill and panicked. His wings unfurled fully, looming like large orange-and-red shadows above him.

“Dogs. Scary dogs. Too close. Snarling. Stay away from me.”

Not his danger.

His workout DVD was no longer an option. Phoenix pressed Stop on the player, simultaneously reaching out with his mind to find the source of the signal.

“Big dogs. Too big. Run. No, don’t run. They’ll chase you.”

The voice inside his head echoed. Phoenix opened the large plate-glass door that led to the patio of his hillside house and sought a direction.

The voice was female.

She was in trouble.

She was mortal.

No, he revised immediately. Not mortal. The strength in her mental cry meant something else ran through her veins, something that gave her the ability to call to an Elemental, even inadvertently.

“Nice dog. Handsome dog. Pack. A pack. Run! Run!”

He plucked the impression of very large dogs from her brain. He paused, revising his thoughts. Wolves. Werewolves.

Did this call for his intervention? It was not his concern.

The wings on his back did not appear idly. It was a lie that he wasn’t involved.

Perhaps other paranormals would help her? He cast out mentally, searching for any sign that someone besides himself had heard her cry for help and was acting.

There were plenty of additional minds, but none seemed to be interested in her plight.

Typical. Most paranormals had a disregard for humans that bordered on disdain. Except she wasn’t human. He recognized that she thought she was; perhaps that was why nobody appeared to be going to her aid. Whatever the reason, no help was imminent.

His task, then. Even if his wings hadn’t appeared, he couldn’t ignore the cry. Why, though? Why this mortal—or whatever she was—and why now?

Answers would have to wait. With a hop through the open door and a glide onto the wind, Phoenix was in the air. He soared upward, his red-and-orange wings unfurling fully when he found a good current. Focusing, he determined the source of the altercation was several miles from his current location. Oakland, east of San Francisco. Industrial. Dark. Perfect for an ambush.

The tableau started to coalesce as he got closer. Faint yips met his ears, an aural indicator he was heading in the right direction.

“No, don’t come closer. Fuck, dead end.”

Her distress propelled him to speed up, engaging his wings to make the most of the current.

The lights got dimmer as he approached the destination fixed in his mind. There was little traffic in this dilapidated part of Oakland. Many of the streetlamps were out, so there were long stretches of darkness, broken only by ineffective pools of weak light.

A woman stood her ground in the corner of an alley sandwiched between two large warehouses. She was trapped between the high fence guarding the property behind and the beasts in front of her. Werewolves, Phoenix confirmed as he got closer. Untrained, young, stupid werewolves. Their black-tipped fur told him this was Fenley’s clan. Running in a pack, the wolves clearly thought they were invulnerable to anything but other predators of the night. Just stupid wolves out for some fun, terrorizing the local population, toying with a human.

Silently landing behind the wolves, Phoenix folded his wings, and they slipped behind his back until they looked like another grouping of large muscles on his already massive frame.

The woman who had inadvertently sent out the distress call looked over. Only the widening and slight shift sideways of her eyes told him that she had seen him.

She
saw
him. She appeared odd, though, as if she was caught in a dream of some sort. There was something off about her mental signature, but he couldn’t pinpoint it.

It made sense if she was other than human. In his Phoenix form he was shielded from their eyes, looking like an ordinary man. His wings could not be seen by humans, only paranormals.

She coughed and shot him a look under the cover of her thick wave of honey-blonde hair, a motion unseen by the wolves. His warrior side approved. Whatever was going on, she seemed alert enough.

“Nice doggies.”

It was a beautiful voice, with a low register and silky, rounded tones.

The wolves were growling, their teeth bared, slowly pacing in front of her, closing possible avenues of escape with their constant movement. Foam escaped from the teeth of the largest wolf, giving it a rabid look. Their heavy leg muscles bunched as they circled, a readiness to spring at any moment evident.

Phoenix’s wing feathers brushed against the crumbling concrete wall he leaned against. The air smelled of grease and used tires. Old cigarette cartons, fast-food bags and other human garbage littered the ground. The wolves had a den in a park not too far from here, and this would be a logical area for them to rove in. But their lack of discipline in targeting a human surprised him. Stupid, to draw attention to themselves.

Glancing over, he registered that the woman was pretty, tall and solid, with an athletic build. Phoenix mentally calculated her bulk, considering how much her weight would affect his center of gravity.

The passionate side of him admired the blonde facing down three young wolves. She looked from one to the next, clearly trying not to show her fear. The shaking of her body and quivering lips told him that the effort failed, valiant though it was.

She continued to look at him, and her eyes were wide, as if appealing to him for help. She still had that odd overlay, almost as if she was sleepwalking while awake. When the woman shifted again, he acted.

“Children, children,” he chastised them, getting closer to the wolves while still keeping enough distance for a quick getaway. Caught as they were between two buildings, it would be difficult to grab her and take off, the retreat a sharp trajectory up and out.

A fireball might help. With a flick of mental energy, it was there. Flame danced lightly over his skin and collected at his fingertips.

All three wolves whirled, haunches quivering as they assessed Phoenix’s unexpected presence. Their eyes flicked to the fireball and then, strangely, to the woman.

The largest of the three moved toward him, making a low series of yips.

The yips translated as a demand for him to back off. Now.

Phoenix shook his head. They obviously knew who Phoenix was, as they should. All the paranormals were aware of the Elementals. When he arrived seven years ago, he had introduced himself to the locals, so the packs knew that he was currently in San Francisco. They also had learned he didn’t concern himself with other paranormal business. He left them alone to conduct their affairs and asked that they do the same.

The one who looked the fastest also yipped, and he translated the feral voice in his mind easily, as if the wolf were speaking the English language.

“Whatcha want, Elemental? Can’t you see we’re dealing with business? Clear out. Leave us alone. This doesn’t concern you.”

Phoenix turned his attention to the wolf mind-speaking to him.

“The better to rend you with, my dear,”
the wolf said, his mental tone mocking.

Did humans know a werewolf had been the inspiration for the Big Bad Wolf?

“Mortals are off-limits,”
Phoenix replied in the yip of wolf language. His hands had tensed into fists, his wings silently spreading over his back under the cloak of darkness, but not yet ready for flight.
“Go play with something that can defend itself.”

The bigger one stepped forward with a swagger. Phoenix could see the ripple under his skin. It wouldn’t take much for the wolf to attack. They were angry and they were…scared? The quivering of their haunches told him they weren’t as fearless as they appeared. One of them had marks across his back, as if he had been singed. Phoenix sniffed the air, but the overlay of scents made it impossible to pick up anything else.

He focused on the woman again. There was something else there, something flickering beneath her surface. It called to him, spoke to him in a way he hadn’t felt for centuries. Fire. He shook his head, and he tasted the air again. There was fear and…something else. Compulsion, perhaps, as if their minds weren’t quite under their own control.

It stank of Haures. His Demonos counterpart had a hand in this.

The largest wolf gestured to the blonde, but Phoenix didn’t follow his hand. The distraction technique was too obvious. The third one moved into a classic flanking pattern until they had him triangulated.

The woman shifted now, opening her mouth as she observed the last wolf fall into place. She had blanched when the wolves surrounded them but managed to keep her cool. Amazingly, she still had her handbag, which she had slung crosswise on her body.

“Sir, you, the d-d-dogs…” she started and ground to a stop.

Time for fire. He gathered the flames at his fingertips and, with what appeared to be a casual flick, sent them toward the wolves. Fire stroked their ruffs, singeing the black tips. They yelped but didn’t stand down. The aroma of burned fur slid across his nostrils and was quickly gone.

The wolves were shaking, he confirmed, by turns frightened and hostile, their foaming jaws and quivering haunches indicating a desire to rend, destroy, ruin. They hadn’t yet moved on him, just positioned themselves to attack. They were scared. Of fire. Of him. Of her.

Her. But why? Even though she was some sort of half-breed, she seemed harmless. Still, there was something about her that frightened the wolves. Delving into her mind revealed that it was clouded, but there was a ring of fire. Interesting.

“What’s your name?”

“Rachel.”

She glanced at the triangulated wolves again.

She did not appear to be hurt; he didn’t see blood or torn skin or anything other than mussed clothes from being snapped at.

The wolves would live to see another day.

“Good.”

Phoenix pushed on her mentally, and her unconscious body slumped to the ground.

With a swift movement, Phoenix unfurled his wings and simultaneously rushed past the middle wolf to grab the woman and haul her into his arms. Her weight unbalanced him, making him lower to the ground. He concentrated for a second, recalibrating his center of gravity. Then, with strong flaps of his wings, he soared upward and flew out of reach of the snarling, snapping wolves in two strokes. They jumped, leaping with strong movements of their hind legs, trying fruitlessly to catch him. The yips of frustration and fury faded as they continued into the sky.

He was Phoenix. He could destroy three werewolf cubs with one heated burst of flame, but that would antagonize the locals. Better this way.

It was clear the woman’s predicament had been the reason his wings had appeared. There was no other possibility he could sense, on the air or in his mind. It could only have been the shapeshifters and the scared woman.

The curses of the cubs faded in the distance as he flew, hampered by the woman in his arms. They thought they had been clever, but their efforts had been useless against a being that could fly. Recognizing him, they should have known that.

Then there was the problem of the woman. Her skin was soft and warm under his touch, and felt pliable. She couldn’t be more than twenty-five. He looped her arms around his neck to keep her body stable, and the press of her left breast against his chest made his pulse increase and his body react. The muscles of her thighs over his forearms were taut and strong. She was big, but not overweight, a tall and well-built woman with solid warmth.

Phoenix continued his flight, soaring above unlighted or ill-lighted streets to get them close to the address he had plucked out of her mind. While he couldn’t be seen, he wasn’t sure about his passenger. There was a drumbeat of danger somewhere, and he wanted to get her home quickly.

The danger tugged at him. Challenge was coming, of that he was certain. Was this woman somehow intertwined with it? That would be new.

They reached the apartment building. Phoenix landed in the deserted street. He found the keys in her purse and sorted through them in his mind until the right one became clear. Just one lock, he noticed. Not secure at all.

It was a small one-bedroom, sparsely furnished and uninteresting. The only interesting thing was the intriguing woman who still lay unconscious in his arms.

Phoenix kicked the door shut behind them and strode to the open door of the bedroom. As in the living room, the furnishings were simple, clean but not expensive, and slightly used.

It was, at best, a middle-class lifestyle, he observed before settling her on the solid dark-blue comforter and laying her head on the matching blue-covered pillow.

There was a hiss and he turned to see a brown tabby cat growling at him, its ears flat.

His track record of cats disliking him stayed perfect, judging from the ears and the hissing. Tipping a wing at her small champion, Phoenix removed her shoes. Then he worked the comforter out from under her prone body and smoothed it over Rachel’s form until it was up around her shoulders.

“Watch over her, kitty,” he said, resisting an urge to press a kiss to her forehead. Something inside her called to him, something as integral to him as the fire he utilized. The cat continued to glare at him, its green eyes glinting in the semidarkness as he checked and locked the front door.

Either the door or a window would have to stay unlocked if he left without waking her. Choosing a bedroom window that faced a brick building next door, he gave the cat, and then Rachel, a final look. With a strange reluctance to leave the woman echoing through his body, Phoenix exited.