Free Scorcher by Celia Kyle

Chapter One
     
 
     
    Brant’s girlfriend was going to be the death of him. Again. Oh, she hadn’t meant to blow him up that one time before… But it’d happened, and he’d had to pretend to go on some “vacation” while he spent a day or two rising from the ashes. Folklore was not entirely accurate in that respect. Sure, phoenixes came back from the dead…eventually.
    Right now, he was feeling that telltale ache in his gut, letting him know that a fire was eminent. Something he’d been able to do since he was knee-high to his grandpa. Some three hundred years now.
    Long ago he’d broken from tradition and decided to live alone, working fires and saving lives with his ability, living as a human and searching for his fire mate at every turn. By now, he’d figured that a mate wasn’t in the cards for him, and he’d found himself a gal that made his heart nearly stop every time he saw her.
    Half the time it stopped from her beauty both inside and out. The other half of the time his heart nearly disintegrated was because something else around her old ranch house had caught fire or blown up while she stood inches—sometimes less—from the flames. She was unlucky as all get out in some respects, and the luckiest woman alive in others.
    Thank fire.
    Brant took a break from his paperwork, endless paperwork since he’d become the chief and fire investigator for the town, and stepped outside. The wind whipped around him, caressing his face, warming and cooling him at the same time, calling to his bird. His back tingled, wings fluttering beneath the surface, and he ached to take flight, searching for the fire. Then again, he knew exactly where it would be. He could feel a pull toward the north and west of the station. Open fields of dirt, rock and brush, as well as Phoebe’s place, laid out that way. He didn’t think the brush spontaneously combusted, which meant his Phoebe had gotten into trouble. Again.
    He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, tugging on the long ends. He needed a haircut, needed to tidy up, but after he made sure his girlfriend survived this newest round of Phoebe versus catastrophe.
    Brant ambled toward his truck, noting how the house’s badge, along with the big black words that proclaimed him chief and investigator, contrasted with the four-by-four’s pristine white paint.
    Brant’s right-hand man, Damon, was lounging on the picnic table, reading a book and seeming to enjoy the cool weather. “She at it again, Chief?”
    Dang, he hadn’t realized he was that predictable. “It seems so.”
    “Gut got you headed out that way, or is your dick doing the talking?” Damon cackled, his laugh carrying through the yard.
    Yeah, predictable. “Gut this time, ya jealous bastard.” He smiled good-naturedly. He hated talking about Phoebe like that, but boys would be boys and he didn’t want to alienate his crew. They depended on each other when they went into fires and harmony was essential. “I think she’s busted something else, and knowing her, she’s mad as a hornet.”
    “And mad sex is the best sex…”
    Brant scooped up a rock from the ground and tossed it Damon’s way, making sure to miss the idiot. “Shut it, fucker.”
    Damon dashed out of the way, laughing, a smile on his face. “Just fuckin ’ with ya man. Just fuckin ’ with ya . Tell Phoebe I said hi.”
    With that, Damon returned to his book and Brant continued his trek toward the truck, Phoebe on his mind. The woman just had the worst luck in the world, but at least it let him come to her rescue pretty often. And any time spent with her ultimately led to time in her bed. He just wished her heart would follow through.
    Damn, but he loved that woman. If only…
    Thoughts of fire mates and the penalty of mating with non- firekin occupied his thoughts while he backed out of the station’s parking lot. Part of him thought Phoebe might just be worth mortality.
    With her pale brown skin that seemed to glow in moonlight and