CHAPTER 3
Sula woke with a start. She didn’t know whether it was the soft pillow beneath her or the fact she was finally warm, but she had woken feeling disorientated yet safe. It had taken her a few seconds to get her bearings and remember that she had been taken from that crappy cold and dirty box.
She knew she hadn’t been asleep for long but even that short power nap had done more good than any of the times she had managed even a small amount of broken sleep while she was locked away.
Sula blinked and lifted her head slightly, peering around the room to look for her savior but only finding it empty. She felt a pang of regret at not waking and seeing him, but his scent surrounded her and for now that would have to do. In a short time, she had become attached to the male. Who wouldn’t? She was female after all and he was…well yeah he was all male and then some.
Sula may have been trapped in her bird form for a while, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate a good-looking man when she saw one. Considering the talent she had to look at before, he was a welcome relief for the eyes.
Moving her eyes around the room, they stopped on a sight she had only seen in her dreams—dreams that included everything she currently had and actually made her want to pinch herself just to make sure she wasn’t in one now.
Sitting not a foot from her pillow was heaven, in the form of cake. Not just any cake but rich, thick, creamy and heavenly chocolate cake.
She felt herself salivate and then drool. It had been so long since she had eaten anything with a calorie count bigger than a stick of celery that she very nearly head dived into it.
She slid gradually from her makeshift bed, her claws scraping against the wood finish, and slowly waddled toward the plate. Sula could smell the frosting that covered the top, could almost taste it. In another life she would have already shifted and that cake would have been but a memory. But she had no energy to shift, so she settled for attacking it in a less-than-ladylike manner.
Bending her neck, she jabbed her beak into the sponge, not caring that the frosting went up her tiny nostrils and over her small, bald head. The instant the cocoa hit her tongue, she was lost to the taste. Inside she was moaning like some of the porn stars she had seen in the videos her old owner had watched.
Only this was pure pleasure. What woman didn’t love chocolate?
Sula chirped happily and tilted her head again, this time not being careful about getting covered. This was the best thing she had eaten in years and she would enjoy it. There was a high possibility that she would be sick afterward or that her rescuer would walk in, take one look, and take her back to her cage. Regardless she would savor this moment, this joyful enjoyment of the chocolatey goodness, like it was her last.
The idea of just bathing in the frosting was a tempting prospect but she didn’t think her rescuer would appreciate the chocolate angels that would decorate the surface of his old and extremely expensive desk. This was what chocolate did—made you contemplate the random joys in life. The mere fact she was alive made her eating his cake worth it and worth any retribution.
Cake knew the answer, especially chocolate cake.
Filling her face and coating her body, Sula lay her nearly featherless body down and did exactly what she had wanted. Waving her wings at the side, she made what had to be the first ever bird-based chocolate angel.
Whatever life threw at her next she could handle.
“WHAT THE…?”
Damian stopped in the doorway, looking at his desk in complete and utter surprise. Whatever he’d expected when he’d come back from his shower, it wasn’t this.
There was cake… everywhere. Like, all over his desk. And in the middle of it all, chirping happily as she rolled around in chocolate frosting, was dot.
Striding forward, he loomed over the desk. She had her eyes closed and, if he wasn’t mistaken, was making the cake equivalent of snow angels. As if sensing him looking at her, she opened her eyes and froze, right in the middle of the desk. Abruptly, she went limp, her eyes shutting, and he had to bite back a smile.
“Oh no you don’t, little bird… you’re awake and I know you are,” he chided, reaching out to pick her up. “Just look at you. You’ve gotten yourself covered. You’ll make yourself sick with all this chocolate. Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
As if in answer, she chirped, only to him it sounded angry. He’d never seen an angry parrot before. He would bet if she had arms she would have crossed them. Only instead she opted for a more violent display of anger and attacked his hand.
“Ouch! What was that for?” he asked in shock as she released the skin of his hand from her beak. She hadn’t broken the skin, but she could have. Easily.
He moved again, to try and move the cake out of the way, but she lunged for him again. Startled, he pulled his hand back as she stood on the desk between him and the cake. Protecting it. His dragon rumbled in amusement, highly delighted with the little creature’s fire and determination.
“You want that, huh?”
She nodded her small head not once but a few times, her large amber eyes blinking out from a face covered in frosting. Her gaze watched him for a while longer as if ensuring he wouldn’t try to move her again before she turned a little and waddled back toward the leftover sponge. Every now and again she looked up at him, as if checking on him.
He didn’t move, letting her eat some more of the cake. Scale alone knew when she’d last eaten properly. He could practically see every bone in her body.
“Okay,” he said finally, reaching out and scooping her up. “No,” he chided when she squawked and tried to bite him again. “You’ll make yourself sick. You can have more later. I promise.”
Plucking the plate with the remains of the demolished cake off the table, he strode through to the kitchen. She struggled and complained in his hold, trying to stretch her neck out to reach the plate in his other hand.
“Cut it out,” he ordered with a chuckle. “Look, there’s plenty more for later.” Leaving the plate on the side, he opened the fridge for a moment, letting her see the rest of the cake on the shelf. “After you’ve had a bath. That stuff is sticky.”
He had almost laughed at her reaction to the rest of the huge chocolate cake that took up an entire shelf in the fridge. He had it specially made every week, and it was big enough to satisfy him and the dragon-shaped garbage disposal he housed inside of himself.
Her wide eyes looked in wonder and had again seemed pretty annoyed when he had closed the door, blocking her view from the mass of chocolaty perfection. He couldn’t blame her at all. It was that good.
Her squawking resumed as he carried her through to the bathroom. Although she had few feathers, if she stayed caked in sponge and frosting, it wouldn’t do her any good.
He switched on the light and used his free hand to turn the taps of the sink. With his index finger, he tested the heat before putting the plug in and filling the basin. Instead of a battle from her, she seemed keen, watching the water fill.
“You like that, huh?” he asked as she hopped out of his hand to balance on the edge of the sink, her claws clicking on the basin as she investigated the rising water. Reaching for the bath oils, he held them out for her inspection. “How about these?”
He watched as once again she surprised him, perusing the oils like she was shopping for something. If he had any doubt she was a female, this nailed it.
She chirped happily, pecked her beak against the glass of the oil that read Cedarwood, and then looked up at him expectantly.
“Excellent choice, dot,” he said, pouring a good amount into the sink and swirling it with his hand. “A-a-a, not yet,” he chided when she made to jump in right away. He held his hand out flat for her to step into. “It’s oil. It’ll be slippery.”
Her claws scraped against his callused hand as she not so gently climbed up. He smiled as she wiggled her bald tail a little before sitting in his palm and waiting.
AFTER YEARS INSIDE A CAGE, who knew defense of a chocolate cake was her thing. Sula would have grinned with pride despite her frosting-covered face if she had been able to shift. So instead, she settled for feeling smug inside. She hadn’t meant to bite him, but she had licked the cake, and as such, it was hers.
Only she had to admit the big lug was right. She had started to feel a tad on the queasy side. And she refused to waste the scrumptious food she had been gifted, well not so much gifted as taken without him knowing.
Yet instead of the expected anger, he had been understanding and kind, even promising more cake later and showing her the biggest cake she had seen in her entire life. In her current form it was twice her size.
She had wanted to shout “mine” when he had closed the door on the refrigerator, but she had only managed a squawk. To be honest she wanted to shout “mine” whenever she looked at him. It was either the cake or him but she felt all funny inside.
With her mind wandering, she only noticed they had moved to the bathroom when he had switched the light on, showcasing a simple yet masculine room. It had black tiles and silver accents with the usual amenities including what looked like a hot tub.
He carefully held her as he turned on the taps and filled the sink, all the while checking the temperature.
“You like that, huh?” his deep voice pulled her gaze from the rising water to that of his face. Sula nodded and chirped. He had left her perched on the side of the sink and now she was excited to get in. Not only was she happy to be rid of her frosting jacket, but she was ready to be rid of years worth of grime and dirt.
She may be a phoenix but that didn’t warrant her not being able to have a bath, not that she would have. She hadn’t trusted that sleazeball, and the idea of being naked near him had made her skin crawl. When her rescuer had shown her the oils, Sula had thought she may well still be in that dream she had mentioned earlier.
Wanting something that would bring to her the distant memories of home, she tapped her beak against the glass of the cedarwood vial. His words of praise only made her want to preen her feathers, if she’d had any left. His large hand swirled the water, releasing the scent that took her back years to the cozy cabin in the woods where she had been born and the hazy memories that echoed in the back of her mind. Memories of a possible happier time if not for her captors. Closing her eyes, Sula stepped forward ready to submerge herself in them and the hot water.
She felt his hand on her as she made a jump for the water. Instead he held his palm out so she could step into it and he could lower her into the water.
Smiling widely on the inside, she did as he asked and settled into his palm, shaking her tattered tail, and felt herself being slowly lowered. The feel of the hot water against her skin was pure bliss, even as the water changed color from a clear to a dark brown. She didn’t care.
The oil helped relax her stiff muscles and the water cleaned her skin, getting rid of years of abuse. By the time she was done, she was back to being pale orange in color. Some of the few feathers that had survived were varying shades of yellow, orange and red, although they were nowhere near as spectacular as her feathers used to be.
A pang of hurt flowed through her and easily turned to hate and anger at the damage her captors had done to her all because of what she was. She would heal and hopefully her feathers would return, but then she would have to make a choice. Remain a bird and act like a domesticated parrot to hide that she was a shifter, or shift back to her human form and never shift again, hiding her phoenix from the world.
Her bird would hate that, but she had to make the choice and pray that when she did her rescuer wouldn’t be like the others.
Hope was all she had, but she didn’t have much left.
SULA HAD NEVER WATCHED a male sleep before, not like she was now. She watched every intake of breath and every flutter of his eyelashes as he dreamed. Damian, that was the male’s name, as he had told her while he had watched her splash around in the sink. Sula had wanted to reply, but she hadn’t been quite ready. She didn’t think she had gained enough strength yet to shift.
Now, on the other hand, after another two tiny helpings of chocolate cake—which Sula had thought weren’t even enough to cover how hungry she was—she felt almost okay, except for the no feathers thing.
Perched on the bed next to Damian’s pillow, Sula watched again the rise and fall of his humongous chest and had to stop herself from chirping in reaction. She had no experience with males—most of her adult life being locked in a cage would do that—but this male, her rescuer, felt safe and strangely like hers.
Tilting her head to the side she smiled on the inside. Yes, he was hers. She had heard the TV shows her owners had watched and didn’t they say something like “I licked it, so it’s mine”? Well that’s what she intended to do.
Jumping back toward the end of the bed, Sula was careful to not make any sound. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself for the first time in years to pull on her powers. She pulled on the human buried deep within her soul and called her out.
Her body at first fought the change, cringing as if scared of the pain it would cause. But this was as natural to her as breathing. Feeling the telltale signs, she let the shift engulf her, biting her lip to stop from crying out as her body became encased in pins and needles.
Sula had been so used to being the size of a parrot, her head spun as she finally, after five years, stood in her human form.
Her forehead was covered with sweat and every muscle shook, but she had done it. She didn’t need a mirror to know she still didn’t look okay. Her body was covered in scars—from whip marks to cigarette burns. She would always retain those as constant reminders, but she would heal.
She hoped her hair would grow back to what it was, long red locks that shimmered. She missed her hair. Sula rubbed a palm over her bald scalp and sighed quietly. Yes, she couldn’t wait to get her hair back. Turning, she found the shirt she had slept wrapped in and grabbed it, throwing it over her head without even undoing the buttons and letting the soft cotton bury her.
She immediately brought the material up to her nose, taking in the scent that was all Damian. It was a pure male scent with a hint of the cedarwood that she had bathed in earlier. Being in her human form, the scent now brought feelings of contentment and also a buzz to her stomach that for once had nothing to do with food.
Sula perched on the edge of the bed and returned to her new favorite pastime, watching Damian sleep. Her fingers itched to run over the skin of his shoulder, right where it ran down to the definition of his bicep, which even in rest would take more than both her hands to circle it.
To Sula, large muscles meant strength. Strength meant protection. And protection meant safety.
Was she finally safe? Sula wanted to believe she was. She was desperate to believe it. She leaned in close to her resting male. In one smooth motion before she lost her nerve, she bent forward and, with a light sweep of her tongue, licked the top of his shoulder. Lying down gently, Sula made sure the bed didn’t jostle as she curled up facing Damian, her hands tucked under her head while she watched him.
“I licked him, so he’s mine,” she finally said quietly, her voice hoarse and rusty from lack of use.