Page 3 of Flame it Up

“I will see you tomorrow night,” she said, tapping her glass.

He gave her one last courteous nod, then departed back to his own private pod.

He sat and realized he had been sweating for the entire conversation. Pyrus removed his jacket and draped it neatly next to him, not wanting to wrinkle the expensive fabric. He then returned his gaze to the window where the light of day was beginning to fade, replaced by a blanket of darkness.

That was when he most loved to fly. The night was when life was most like a dream. The surrealness of it all calmed him, helping him let go of any anxiety that may have plagued his day. He wished he could do that right then and there instead of sitting in some luxurious seat for seventeen hours.

Pyrus pondered what he had gotten himself into as nightfall came and the shutters of the windows were pulled down. He left a tiny sliver of his up so he could still see the stars and the buzzing lights of life below.

He didn’t really need or want a mate, so why the hell had he agreed to Gerri’s matchmaking services? He had spent a fair amount of money on useless things, but he knew that asking her to find his one true love would certainly top the list. He tried to sleep, tilting his chair back and closing his eyes to the steady hum of the plane engine.

How on earth would she be able to find someone so quickly anyway? And how had she known he was on that flight?

These questions swirled in his mind when he tried to rest. He made a mental note to inform his assistant about the changes to his schedule, which would be sure to ruffle his feathers. Pyrus had meant it, though, when he’d said the charity of endangered animals was a worthy cause. What occurred in places beyond North America was always disturbing when it came to the immense loss of life.

That in itself would make the venture fruitful. Even if he met the woman Gerri claimed would be his mate, he would at least be able to have one fun night with her, wouldn’t he?

Eventually, Pyrus was able to doze lightly, wanting to get most of the flight over with and to mute his thoughts about the mystery woman.

Once they landed, he went to his affluent hotel room and rescheduled a few meetings. He made the time to fly around the city, over the sight line of any human observer, of course. Humans were used to some shifters but didn’t really know a lot about dragons. It was a silent agreement that these types of mythological shifters kept their presence hushed.

He found an empty, open field to give himself a place to expand without being seen. When his scales sprouted from his skin and the fire burned inside his throat, Pyrus finally felt like he had come home.

It was the only thing that kept the feeling of guilt at bay. He had tried booze and sex, but nothing was as good as blasting through the sky, miles above the earth, gazing down upon the ongoings of life without those below ever knowing.

Pyrus found himself thinking about the mysterious woman. He didn’t want to hope; hope left scars. But he did wonder within the small bright area between the corners of his heart if it could ever be possible.

TWO

MAZIE

Mazie Kettler believed in hard work, and not only because her parents instilled it in her at a very young age. It was one of the only things in life that she knew was for sure, a self-reliance method that made her keep everything in her life close to her chest. That meant keeping relationships at an arm’s distance and lacking confidence in any of her natural skills and abilities.

She put all of her efforts into giving to others, which she felt was enough to feel like a valuable member of society. She was young when she left home but left as soon as she could to seek out an infinitely rewarding job, which eventually landed her in Johannesburg, South Africa, at the Sanchez-Hathaway Animal Sanctuary.

As usual, Mazie was up early with the sun and with the rest of her coworkers. They took care of animals native to the area that had either been injured from poaching or were being used for breeding offspring that would eventually be returned to the wild. Her job, along with everyone else’s, was quite broad. It was mostly cleaning stalls, feeding the animals, and, every now and then, interacting with some of the most beautiful creatures Mazie had ever seen.

The sanctuary was vast and growing larger by the day. She vaguely knew about the person who funded the sanctuary after having met her at a few events where money was being raised. Gerri Wilder was her name.

No one really knew much about her other than she was a renowned philanthropist with a known source of wealth. That never really mattered much to Mazie, nor did a great amount of money. She was content cleaning the baby bush elephants with a hose and having them remove her hat from her head. It was a pure and joyful moment that wealth could not buy.

But on a particularly sweaty morning, her coworkers were all chatting and fired up with excitement about the gala being hosted that very night. They had been informed about a month ago by the executives and owners that they were going to set up larger tents for the event than any of the workers were used to and even expensive glamping tents for some of the guests to stay in. It was supposedly going to be way more glamorous than anything the staff had hosted before.

Mazie was cleaning up the stall of an injured baby rhino who had recently lost its mother. The baby had warmed to her over time, nudging at her leg and wandering around the pen with a contented familiarity. The sun beat down on Mazie, who had become accustomed to tying her long hair into a high ponytail and stuffing it under a wide sun hat.

One of her coworkers and a good friend, Emilia, ran over to Mazie with an exhilarated expression on her face. “Mazie!” she hollered. “What the hell are you doing?”

Mazie looked up at her friend with a feigned scowl. Sweat trickled down her back and the front of her chest, even slipping between her bra. “My job,” she scoffed. “What the hell are you so hyper about?”

Emilia and Mazie had developed a playful relationship, one that was driven by the trauma of high-pressured family influence. They could joke around with one another and not get hurt. There was a camaraderie there that both were at ease about.

Emilia waved a hand in the air and pursed her lips. “The gala, obviously!” Emilia yelled. “Gerri is actually coming this time, did you hear?”

Mazie went on shoveling rhino poop into a giant pile. “I did hear, yes,” she said.

“And you are more interested in rhino shit?”

Mazie stopped shoveling, propped up the tool, and leaned against it. Emilia was already grinning with anticipation for Mazie’s clever retort.

---