Past
20 years ago…
*My mate.* Rose would never, ever get tired of those words, whether spoken out loud, sent down the telepathic bond, or just in the privacy of her own thoughts. *What’s your waistband size?*
A bemused feeling spread from that warm, eternal glow in her soul. *In truth, I haven’t the faintest idea. Clothes just always…happened.*
Rose flicked through a rack of men’s jeans, pursing her lips in thought. She held up her hands in mid-air, curving them around an imaginary waist. After last night, her body knew the shape of his in intimate detail. The sharp angles of his hips, the hard planes of his flanks, his way his muscles surged in smooth motion as he filled her…
*Need I remind you, I am currently sitting in the car wearing nothing but a sheet,* he growled down the mate bond, sounding rather pained. She sensed him shift position uncomfortably. *And if you keep up that line of thought, I’m going to get arrested for public indecency.*
She giggled. *Serves you right for burning your only pair of pants.*
She gasped as heat ran over her skin, caressing her curves like a phantom hand. *You appeared to have no complaints last night.*
“Stop that,” she hissed out loud, winning a slightly strange look from another shopper. “I’m in a public place.”
A distinctly smug, masculine chuckle echoed in her mind. With a last tweak that made her legs buckle, the sense of warmth withdrew.
Our mate, her swan murmured in contentment.
Grinning like an idiot, Rose selected a pair of jeans. She pushed her shopping cart onward, scanning the shelves. A couple of soft cotton T-shirts, in a deep red that would complement his coloring. She hesitated over sweatshirts, trying to find one that wasn’t covered in crass slogans or over-patriotic stars and stripes, before giving up. He was the Phoenix, after all. He wasn’t going to get cold.
*Boxers or briefs?* she asked him.
He didn’t answer for a moment. She felt a strange stillness from him, as though it was a question of huge import.
*I’ve never had to pick anything for myself before,* he said softly. *I don’t really know how to do it.*
She wrapped wordless comfort around him, and waited.
*Boxers,* he said at last.
*Is that what they gave you?* she asked as she grabbed a couple of packs. *At the warlock base?*
*No.*
She brushed her mind against his, light as the tip of a feather, so that he could feel her silent understanding.
She paid for the shopping, counting out bills from her dwindling supply. She had more in her savings account, but she didn’t want to risk going to a bank if she could possibly avoid it. Neither she nor Blaze thought that the warlocks had any way of identifying her, but better safe than sorry.
Exiting the store, she made her way to the back of the parking lot, where she’d left the car. Blaze opened the door as she approached, still carefully clutching his sheet. His relief shone down the mate bond.
“See?” She gave him a long, lingering kiss before handing him the shopping bag. “Perfectly saf
e. You could have stayed at the motel after all.”
“You’d have come back to find a smoking hole in the ground,” he said wryly, ripping tags off clothes as he spoke. “It was bad enough having to wait outside. I couldn’t stand to be any farther apart from you.”
She kissed him again, curling her hands over his smooth, bare shoulders. “You’ll never have to.”
Once Blaze was decent once more, they set off down the freeway. Rose would have liked to head straight north, but the wildfires were still blocking off the most direct route to the border. She switched on the radio, scanning frequencies for news updates as she drove.
Blaze rode shotgun in silence, his bandaged forearm resting along the open window, the wind ruffling his short brown hair. His dark eyes drank in the sky, the horizon, the ugly strip malls and billboards, all with equal wonder.
“Where are we going?” he asked at last.
“Since you don’t have any sort of identification, our options are a bit limited.” Rose flashed him a sideways glance, something occurring to her. “Do you even have a last name?”