If you want a happy ending, you have to make it yourself.

Rose Swanmay silently chanted the phrase in her mind like a mantra, focusing on the words to quell the butterflies in her stomach. She’d wasted enough time on regrets and might-have-beens. It was time to take matters into her own two hands.

Steeling her nerve, she rang the bell on the end of the bar.

“Time, gentlemen!” she announced in a loud, firm voice.

Mutters and groans rose from the men scattered throughout her pub, even though she’d given them the ‘last orders’ warning fifteen minutes ago. Most of the Sunday-night crowd had already finished up their drinks and left, but a couple of her regulars had clearly been hoping she hadn’t really meant it when she’d announced that she was closing early.

“Aw, come on Rose,” wheedled Wayne, one of Rose’s most long-standing customers. He normally spent so long in the pub, he was practically a resident. “You can’t kick us out. Where are we supposed to go?”

“There are literally hundreds of other pubs in this city.” Rose folded her arms, giving him a stern look. “Not to mention bars, clubs, and drinking dens. I’m sure you’ll find somewhere else that can serve you a beer.”

“You know it ain’t about the beer, Rose.” Wayne attempted to give her puppy eyes. Given that he was a grizzled, grimy, half-drunk wolf shifter, this was not entirely successful. “There’s no place like the Full Moon.”

This was true. The Full Moon was the only pub in Brighton that catered exclusively to shifters. No ordinary humans were allowed in unless specifically invited. It was the one place in the city where all shifters, no matter what their animal, could relax and truly be themselves.

Even though shifters were secretly part of all levels of society throughout Great Britain, they still always had to be on their guard in public. No matter how powerful they were individually, they were still massively outnumbered by regular humans. The safety of all shifter-kind depended on ordinary people remaining happily oblivious to the hidden world running alongside their own.

“This ain’t just our local,” Wayne continued. “It’s the only safe neutral territory in Brighton. You wouldn’t kick an old lone wolf out into the cold, would you?”

Rose smiled, touched by the slightly slurred declaration. She’d worked hard to make her pub a welcoming haven for all shifters. It was nice to have it appreciated.

Nonetheless, she plucked his nearly-empty pint glass out of his hand. “Sorry, Wayne. You can have a free drink on me tomorrow. But I’m still closing early tonight.”

“You got a hot date, Rose?” one of her other regulars called out teasingly from the other end of the bar.

Rose’s heart skipped a beat, but she managed to keep her expression unruffled. “Just booked for a private engagement, you cheeky beggar. Now be off with the lot of you.”

Wayne paused in the doorway, shooting her a curious look over her shoulder. Rose’s empathic sense caught a surge of sudden interest from him, like a wolf pricking up its ears.

“Private party?” Wayne’s gaze slid sideways, to a particular corner booth. “Is it Alpha Team? They’re normally here by now.”

“Nothing to do with Alpha Team,” Rose said, which wasn’t entirely true. “And mind you keep that long nose out of other people’s business, Wayne, or I might forget about that free drink. Shoo.”

It wasn’t the first time she’d had to remind the old wolf to respect Alpha Team’s privacy. And Wayne wasn’t the only shifter she’d had to slap on the muzzle that way. More than a few people came to the Full Moon in the hopes of getting a glimpse of one of the famous firefighters of Alpha Fire Team.

It wasn’t just that Alpha Team saved lives everyday, although that was impressive enough. It was what they were as much as what they did that attracted curious tourists from far and wide.

Dragon, griffin, pegasus, sea dragon, unicorn…even among shifters, they were rare and powerful.

And their leader was the rarest and most powerful of them all.

He was also, unfortunately, the most elusive. Which was exactly why Rose was closing her pub at the most profitable time of the week.

Shooing out the last few stragglers, Rose flipped the sign outside the pub to CLOSED. She waited, tapping her foot, until her innate empathic ability told her that there was no one lingering hopefully outside. Then she opened the door again, spun the sign back to OPEN, and dashed for the bar.

She barely made it in time. Even as she slid back into her usual position behind the taps, the door opened softly. For everyone else—even Rose—the old iron hinges always squealed, but somehow he never made a breath of noise when he entered.

And there he stood, on the precise stroke of eight o’clock, as always. Straight-backed, contained and controlled, formal in his day uniform of charcoal trousers and pale gray shirt. The warm light from the pub’s scattered lamps caught the gold thread in the East Sussex Fire and Rescue badge embroidered on his sleeve.

Fire Commander Ash. The Phoenix Eternal. The most powerful shifter in Europe.

Rose’s heart thudded against her ribs, so loud that she was certain he’d be able to hear it in the silent bar. As ever, Ash made the whole world tilt and refocus around him.

It wasn’t his physical looks. Oh, he was well-built enough, especially for a man in his late forties, but still nowhere near as big or burly as many shifter males. There wasn’t anything unusual about Ash’s coloring, either. Slightly tanned, weathered skin, gray streaking his short sandy-brown hair—there was nothing out of the ordinary about him at all.

Except for the intense, leashed power burning behind those deep brown eyes.

He was the Phoenix. Not a, but the. Rose didn’t know exactly how it worked, but there was only ever one Phoenix at a time, in all the world.

Even ordinary humans could sense the raging inferno hidden in the heart of that quiet, unassuming figure. To Rose’s shifter senses, Ash blazed with alpha power. He was so bright, she could hardly bear to look at him, yet so compelling that she couldn’t bear to look away. He was the most magnetic man she’d ever met.

Not our mate, whispered her inner swan.

“Ash!” Rose said brightly, drowning out her animal’s unwelcome comment. “Come in, come in!”

He normally moved with utter assurance, but tonight he hesitated on her doorstep. His piercing gaze swept the deserted room, pausing briefly on the corner usually occupied by Alpha Team.

For some reason, Ash was the one person Rose’s empathic sense didn’t work on. But she didn’t need psychic powers to be able to tell that Ash was baffled by his team’s absence. Possibly no one else would have been able to read that from his still, remote face, but Rose had known him for a long time.

“I don’t know where everyone is,” Rose said, too quickly. “Maybe there’s some sort of event going on. I’ve been bored stiff. Come keep me company, will you?”

Moving as gingerly as a cat on unfamiliar territory, Ash approached the bar. He clasped his hands behind his back, feet setting in parade rest. He had the air of a man who suspected a surprise party might be about to spring out at him.

“The usual?” Rose asked, already reaching for a glass.

Ash’s chin dipped in a fractional nod. “Thank you.”

Rose poured his drink. As always, Ash slid a twenty across the bar in return. Rose had given up arguing with him about this years ago. Although she’d at least managed to talk him down from paying fifty per glass of perfectly ordinary ice water. Even though he didn’t drink, he didn’t need to feel that guilty about occupying space in her pub.

Rose occupied herself cleaning an imaginary spill on the worn oak bar. “Busy day?”

“Evidently busier than yours,” Ash murmured, staring around the empty pub again. His eyebrows drew down, his head tilting as though he was listening to something.

“Anything from the gang?” Rose asked, recognizing the look that Ash got when he was attempting to contact his fire crew telepathically.

“No,” Ash said, his brow creasing further. “Their minds are closed at the moment. It is not like them to miss our customary social gathering.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry.” Rose fought down a smile, forcing her tone to stay nonchalant. “No doubt they’re all just enjoying some quality time at home tonight.”

As a matter of fact, she knew for a certainty that they were. Thanks to a quiet word with their mates—and some assistance in arranging babysitters—she was confident that all the other firefighters of Alpha Team were currently having a very enjoyable evening. And would be far too preoccupied to answer their Commander’s telepathic call for quite some time.

Ash let out a faint sigh. He settled onto a bar stool at last, though his posture stayed as straight as a soldier on duty.

“I suppose,” he said, “that I should have expected this.”

“Well, the whole team is mated now,” Rose said, her voice softening in sympathy. “Not to mention most of them have children, or babies on the way. No how much they all might want to keep up the weekly pub meet tradition, they’ve got a lot of new demands on their time.”

“That is true.” Ash eyed her sidelong. “Though not what I was referring to.”

Rose blinked at him. “Oh? What did you mean, then?”

The corner of Ash’s mouth rose, ever so slightly. “That perhaps I might have saved you a great deal of evident effort and planning, had I simply agreed when you first asked me for a private meeting.”

Rose laughed, shaking her head ruefully. “I can’t get anything past you, can I?”

Ash’s mouth quirked a little more, into what for him was the equivalent of a broad, beaming smile. “I have known you for a long time.”

“Ten years.” Rose flicked the corner of her dishrag at him in a playful swat. “Which should be long enough that it shouldn’t be so hard to get you alone. Honestly, Ash, you could drive a woman to her own drink sometimes. Why do you have to be so evasive?”

Ash’s gaze slid away. He didn’t answer, toying with his water glass. His shirt cuff rode up a little with the motion, exposing the old, faded scar that twisted around his right wrist.

“I am here now,” he said, in that deep, quiet voice. “What is on your mind, Rose?”

Rose licked her lips, her mouth suddenly dry. Even though she’d rehearsed this, it was one thing to practice the words in the silent solitude of her bedroom, and quite another to say them to Ash’s closed, forbidding face.

She took a deep breath. “I know you aren’t happy, Ash.”

His head jerked back up, as though this wasn’t at all what he’d been expecting her to say. “I assure you, I am content enough.”

Rose shook her head firmly. “I may not be able to read your heart, Ash, but I’ve known you a long time, too. There’s a difference between acceptance and contentment. And lately, you’ve been losing what little peace you ever had. Seeing the other members of the team happily mated…I know how hard it is for you.”

Ash’s expression shuttered down even further. “I appreciate your concern, but it is both unnecessary and unwanted. The only thing that I have ever asked is that you respect my privacy. Please continue to do so.”

Rose had seen full-grown dragons cower in submission when the Phoenix used that tone. She gripped the edge of the bar, taking comfort from the familiar feel of the old, smooth wood.

“You’re lonely, Ash.” She steeled herself. “And so am I.”

Ash—the Phoenix Eternal, the man who commanded the respect of even the most powerful shifters, the veteran firefighter who calmly walked into deadly danger as a matter of routine—flinched. His shoulders jerked as though her words had been a blow, driving all the air out of his lungs.

“I thought that you were content enough.” He made a slight gesture around at the pub. “You do not lack for company.”

“It’s not enough.” Rose blew out her breath in a long sigh. “I thought it was, but…Ash, I’ve stood here and served drink after drink to happy mated couples, and each time I do something inside me grows colder and darker. I’m not proud of it, but I’m jealous, and it’s eating up my soul. I can’t help it. I want what they have.”

Ash stared down at his clasped hands, resting on the bar counter. His knuckles whitened.

“I would give anything,” he said, very quietly, “to be able to bring your mate back to you.”

“I know you would,” Rose said, her own throat tightening with the old pain. “But no one can do that. Whoever he was, he’s gone now.”

She’d told Ash the story before, many years ago. Swans were renowned among shifter-kind for always being able to find their mates. Every swan just knew, when the time was right, where to go to find him or her.

Rose had felt that pull herself, when she’d been younger. She’d set off joyfully, certain of finding her happily-ever-after.

Only to wake up one cold, bleak morning to echoing silence in her soul. No mate calling to her. No instinct pulling her on.

Just silence, and her swan’s deep, heartbroken grief.

The wound was still sharp and raw, even twenty years later. Rose swallowed hard, forcing the bitter memory back down.

“My mate died before I could meet him,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean I have to be alone forever.”

Ash’s eyes closed, as if in pain. “Rose,” he said, his voice a barely-audible rasp.

It was now or never. Rose summoned up her courage, her heart beating fast as she reached across the bar. Ignoring her swan’s muffled cry of protest, she rested her hand on top of his.

“It doesn’t mean you have to be alone forever,” she said softly.

She’d never touched Ash like this before, in all the years that they’d been friends. Oh, she’d tapped him on the shoulder or caught his sleeve often enough—even kicked him in the ankle on more than one occasion, when he was being particularly insufferable—but no more than that. He was so fiercely private, even the most casual gesture of affection was unthinkable.

Now, a strange tingle shot through her palm at the feel of his bare skin against hers. She caught her breath, a wave of longing crashing over her. The emotion was so intense, she couldn’t tell whether it was Ash’s or her own.

His skin burned against hers, as if she was holding her hand out to a roaring bonfire. But it was a welcome heat, warming her entire body. It was like she’d been frozen solid, never knowing how cold she truly was, until his fire thawed her.

Not our mate, her swan said again.

“Ash,” she whispered.

His fingers stirred under hers. Gently but firmly, he pulled his hand away.

“No,” he said.

Her hand felt cold, bereft of his heat. She yearned to reach out to him again, but he stood abruptly, turning his back on her. His spine was a straight, rigid line, every muscle tense.

“No,” he said again, harsh and rough. “I am not your mate, Rose.”

She wished that the bar wasn’t still between them. She longed to touch his shoulder, to see if her empathic sense really had penetrated his armor, but she was pretty sure he’d bolt for the door if she moved.

“I know that,” she said, trying not to let on how her heart was pounding just from that brief contact. “And if…if you met your true mate, I wouldn’t keep you from her. I’m not asking for that sort of bond, Ash. I know that’s impossible. But maybe…maybe we could both be a little less lonely. Together.”

His fist clenched at his side, shaking. He stared at the door, but made no move toward it.

Was he hesitating? Hope rose in Rose’s chest.

“We’re more than our animals, Ash.” She spoke quickly, as though she could throw words over him like a net. “We can still choose for ourselves. I want you, not my swan.”

He let out a small, pained sound. “You shouldn’t.”

“Why not? I’m not your mate, not your perfect partner, but we’ve known each other for ten years. I know what a good man you are. Ever since we first met, my feelings for you have only grown. You’ve always been there for me, and I—”

She stopped. Ash’s shoulders were shaking, very slightly.

But not with anger, or tears.

“Why on earth are you laughing?” she asked, bewildered and more than a bit hurt.

The near-silent, bitter sound cut off. Ash half-turned. The light caught the mirthless curve of his mouth, and the dark flames in his eyes.

“Because not a single word of that was true,” he said.