Firefighter Phoenix (Fire & Rescue Shifters 7)

Rory suppressed a snort. The State Parks aren’t our personal territory, you know. It’s just our job to protect them.

Yes, his griffin agreed, serenely unruffled. That is what an Alpha does.

Wystan was waiting politely, pretending not to notice Rory’s distraction. Any shifter could recognize the signs of someone conversing with their inner beast. Rory shook himself, pushing his griffin back down.

“Sorry,” he said, with an apologetic grimace. “Nothing important. So, what do you think?”

“About your idea?” Wystan smiled, his green eyes warm. “It’s got a lot of potential. Many shifter talents are more suited for wildland firefighting than urban. But where are you going to find your recruits? You’ll never persuade Connor to swap smokejumping for mere ground crew.”

“Wasn’t planning to. Smokejumpers are reckless. I want shifters with more sense.” Rory pointed a finger at Wystan. “So what do you say?”

Wystan’s white eyebrows shot up so far, they nearly met his hairline. “Me?”

“Why not? From what I hear, you passed fire academy with flying colors.”

Wystan shook his head. “I wasn’t planning on actually joining a crew. It was just a stepping-stone to get onto a degree course. I’m thinking of going into fire forensics.”

“Come on, you can’t just retreat into books and study theory. You need to get some experience of what it’s actually like to attack a ten thousand acre forest fire with nothing but a chainsaw and a shovel.”

“You make it sound so appealing,” Wystan murmured.

“You’ll love it. Trust me.” Rory leaned forward, his own voice dropping into warm, persuasive tones. “We get deployed all over America, to some of the most beautiful and remote areas. Just picture it. Open skies…soaring mountains…magnificent forests…”

“Which are on fire,” Wystan finished for him, dryly. He folded his arms, for a moment looking remarkably like his father. “And don’t do the voice.”

Wystan hadn’t been joking about leadership running in the family. Rory cleared his throat, withdrawing that unconscious flex of alpha power as though sheathing his claws. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to. Honestly, you would enjoy the job. It’s a real chance to make a difference, saving not only human lives but animals and their habitats as well. And we spend weeks on end deep in the wilderness. Just the squads. No other people around for miles. Come and try it out, at least. Just for one season.”

“Hmmm.” Rory could tell that Wystan was tempted, despite his self-doubt. The other shifter rubbed his chin. “Even if I say yes…you hotshots are meant to be elites. I haven’t even worked on an engine crew. Why would your superintendent agree to hire a rookie?”

“Are you kidding? With your qualifications? I already talked to him, and he’s as eager to have you as I am. We always need good paramedics.”

Wystan’s shoulders tensed. “Then you need my father. Not me.”

“You are a good paramedic,” Rory said firmly. “And I’m not going to let you abandon all your training just because you didn’t meet your own impossible expectations. You can’t keep measuring yourself against your dad, Wys. Nobody can do what he does.”

“But I should be able to.” Wystan rubbed his forehead absently, a brief, habitual gesture that made Rory’s heart hurt for his friend. “You said your superintendent knows about shifters. Did you tell him about…me?”

“He knows what you are.” Deliberately, Rory put his hand on Wystan’s shoulder. The unicorn shifter stiffened, but didn’t pull away. “And he knows you aren’t…like your dad. That’s a strength, Wys. Not a weakness. At least you don’t get crippling headaches around non-virgins.”

“You sound like my parents. They think my pathetic animal is a blessing in disguise too.” Wystan let out a long sigh. “Well, as long as you’re not counting on me actually being able to heal anyone…I’m in.”

“Let me see if I’ve got this straight.” The Emperor-in-Waiting, Heir to the Pearl Throne, Crown Prince of the Sea—more commonly known as Joe—leaned back in his seat. He ticked off items on his dark, elegant hands as he spoke. “Glorious untouched forests and sweeping, breathtaking mountains. A close, elite band of brothers, isolated and alone, totally reliant on each other in the wilderness. Honor and glory, protecting both humanity and Mother Nature from devastating elemental forces.”

“I don’t think I was quite that poetic,” Rory said, raising an eyebrow. “But that about sums it up.”

Joe stared at him as if he’d invited him on a delightful tour of the local sewers. “And you think I would be interested…why?”

“I told you so,” Wystan murmured to Rory. “You should have opened with, ‘Chicks dig firefighters.’”

“My bro, the last thing I need is to become even more attractive to women.” Joe waved at himself, encompassing everything from his curling blue-black hair to the slim-cut silk shirt that clung to his lean, hard torso. “All this, and royalty too? If I add ‘firefighter’ to my excessively long…list of sterling qualities, I’m going to get crushed to death by a hormonal mob.”

Rory opened his mouth to argue, but was interrupted by his twin coming up to their corner booth. Ross had a pint of beer in one hand, a shotglass in the other, and an expression of resigned disgust.

“The beer’s from the blonde lioness over there,” he said, plunking the drinks down in front of Joe. “The whiskey is from her red-headed vixen friend. Apparently whichever one you drink first indicates who gets to take you home tonight.”

As one, the three men leaned forward, peering round Ross’s stocky form. At the bar, two women whispered, eying their table avidly. There was something remarkably predatory about their expressions, like cats staring at a bird feeder through a window. Rory would not have been surprised if they’d started wiggling their butts in the air.

Joe, for his part, seemed to have no objection to being stalked. Flashing a roguish grin, he gave the two a little wave. The pair waved back, fighting down giggles.