CHAPTER THIRTEEN
North Shore, Jamaica
Grant~
“This is absolutely amazing,” Genevieve breathed. “I can see absolutely forever.” She gazed out over the shallow Caribbean Sea to the sinking sun.
Grant saw what Genevieve meant. The evening air was warm and sweetly scented by the tropical flowers that grew all around their villa in colorful profusion. It was a beautiful spot and a glorious sunset.
From the cliff where he stood with his bride, the blue-green sea flowed out past a coral reef to a distant horizon where the sun had turned the water purple and the sky pink. Fifty feet below them, surf pounded on a ragged pile of rocks. In a moment darkness would fall like a curtain, as night did this close to the equator. Soon the first night of their mated life would begin. He couldn’t wait.
“It’s time,” he said. “Are you ready to fly, beloved?”
Gen grimaced. “I have to swallow the Egg of Immortality now? I was enjoying the sunset. And my romantic honeymoon. Can’t we wait?”
“Not another hour longer.” He grinned at her. Despite the face she was making, she was beautiful. And his.
“I don’t feel brave tonight.”
“Remember what Tasha said? How the phoenix bond is intimate and transcendent?” he asked tenderly. “Come share the joy with me.”
“Hmm. I wonder if Cam and Frankie are figuring themselves out,” she said.
He sighed. His mate was being evasive, but she was no coward. “Probably. I don’t know about bear shifters, but phoenixes can’t fight fate. You and I, my darling, are fated. Let’s get naked and turn into phoenixes.”
“We need to get naked first?” she squeaked. “The ritual involves sex?” Her voice turned hopeful.
They had been lovers only two months, and with his international professional schedule, and her Frankfurt posting, long-distance lovers. The novelty of lovemaking had not yet worn off. After this ritual, it never would.
He grinned at her. Gazed into her eyes with his heart in his. “Nope. Not exactly. But if we don’t take off our clothes, they’ll be ruined when we shift.”
“Oh.” She looked around nervously, her big green eyes quartered the area, searching for people.
As if he would ever expose his mate to the gaze of the curious. “The nearest house is behind that big stand of bamboo. It forms a perfect natural screen. The land has collapsed in front of this villa and covered the beach with rocks a hundred yards in either direction. We’re alone in paradise.”
This newly-made cliff was why he had chosen this villa. He had wanted to transform Genevieve where there was a readymade place to launch her first flight.
The sun was a thin fingernail of orange on the horizon, the pink clouds were streaked with gold. And then the day was done. There was no twilight. Just a brief flash of periwinkle sky, followed by the emergence of a great bowl of stars twinkling against soft blackness. A full moon shone down as if he had ordered it specially for their pleasure.
He had the egg in the chamois bag, slung around his neck. Grant unbuttoned his shirt and began to undress. Again he met Genevieve’s eyes and held them with his as he disrobed.
She was still worried about being seen. But she tugged her sundress over her head and stood before him in her gorgeous peachy skin. Surely, she was the most beautiful woman who had ever lived? No Hollywood celebrity was lovelier. He kicked off his sandals and yanked off his pants. Held out his arms to his nude beauty. Brought her close to his heart and kissed her.
“I love you,” he vowed. “Always and forever.” Her soft, plump body quivered temptingly against his hard one. You can be strong, D’Angelo.
“I love you too, Grant. But I still do not want to swallow living lava.”
He showed her the chip of lava that was the egg. It had cooled slightly since he had harvested it from Vesuvius, but it was still hot. “It’ll be okay,” he promised. “Not as bad as childbirth.”
“Amputation is not as bad as childbirth!”
“True.”
“It looks rough,” she said. “Sharp. I’m really not sure about this.”
“Trust me, it’ll be worth it.” He pricked his finger with the needle he had brought along just for this. A single drop of his blood landed on the lava. It smoked and boiled and a perfect pill-sized ovoid appeared on his palm. “Take it,” he entreated. He handed her a canteen.
Genevieve squared her shoulders. Her delicious breasts bobbled gently. But this was no time to grope his wife. This ritual was serious business. She put the egg in her mouth, gasped, and emptied the canteen.
He felt the searing pain in his own gullet as she swallowed. His body experienced the fiery passage of the egg into her belly and the paranormal heat that spread like wildfire through her entire body, permanently altering every cell.
If childbirth hurt more than this, why were there any second children?
There in the tall grass, on the edge of the cliff, Genevieve’s luscious womanly body changed and transformed. He completed his own transformation while her plumage manifested itself in all its paranormal splendor. When her shift was complete, she was six-foot of enormous, muscular, blazing, predatory bird. Gorgeous and his.
He knew he looked very little different than she did. Phoenixes were not sexually dimorphic. Now that they had shifted, mortal eyes would have the utmost difficulty in seeing them. Their dazzling feathers glittered with a paranormal radiance that began in the ultraviolet range. Birds could see them reasonably clearly, but mammals could not detect much beyond a fiery blur. That included humans and their companion animals.
Genevieve was magnificent. Her forked tail feathers streamed out behind her like an undulating train of gold. Her breast gleamed brightly. Her towering crest was stiffly erect and perfect. Her gold eyes shone like jewels and so did her feet and talons.
She opened her beak and a ravishing song poured out. He had heard it so often in his dreams. His heart contracted. Genevieve was finally completely his. As he was hers. After ten years she was at last his phoenix bride. And well worth the wait.
There was just one more step in the ritual that would bind them forever. He plucked a single plume from his breast and laid it at the terrible bronze feet of his mate. It was only a small glowing speck beside her great curved scimitars. She understood his gesture and placed a similar downy feather before him.
He ate hers. She ate his. He began to sing to her of his love.
Effortlessly Genevieve matched him note for note, embroidering his tune with exquisite harmonies of her own. She ended with a flourish of high notes. He danced for her, strutting and posturing. Letting her admire his great wings and strong legs. Displaying his muscular flight muscles.
She imitated him. Matching his steps as if they had practiced together for a lifetime. As one frolicsome bird, they pranced and whirled in a frenzy of love and desire. When his heart told him it was time, he leapt off the cliff, spread his wings and swept out over the sea.
He felt her follow him boldly into the warm trade winds.
I’m flying!
Wingtip to wingtip they flew out past the coral reef to where leaping sailfish sent showers of phosphorescence into the air. He allowed the breeze to lift him and send him soaring over the sparkling droplets.
Beside him, Genevieve flapped hard to keep pace.
Let the wind do the work, my love.
Genevieve angled her wings as he was angling his. Like this?
Got in in one. You’re a natural!
Oh my God. We’re in each other’s heads!
Yes. This is the gift of the phoenix, my darling. A transcendental bond like no other. It is our fate to fly together until we die.
Let’s not think of death. There are tons of other things I would rather do on my honeymoon.
I want those things too. I want to share my body and my life with you, beloved.
Race you to the reef and back, D’Angelo.
Sure. Last one there gets to be on top.