Phoenix king mm shifter.., p.1
Phoenix King: mm shifter romance, page 1
Phoenix King
Brothers of Fire
Book 2
TJ Nichols
Copyright © 2023 by TJ Nichols
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Created with Vellum
Contents
Phoenix King
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Epilogue
Other books by TJ Nichols
About the Author
Phoenix King
Kill the King of Mont de Leucoy, and his siblings will be released.
It should be an easy job for Malcolm Forrest. He’s ex-army, and hiking through snow doesn’t bother him because he’s a snow leopard shifter. He enters the country on four feet, his plan not formed beyond reaching the castle and getting eyes on the king.
Seeing a phoenix flying through the trees is unexpected, but his curiosity has been awakened, and so has the firebird’s. He follows, but what he finds is a man standing by a fire. A man he believes to be a shifter living wild and in need of some company, which, after days of living as a snow leopard, is rather too tempting.
Escaping his security to shift and fly is one of the reasons Gerrit likes to visit his remote mountain estate. The only shifters he ever finds are those in trouble, so when he sees the snow leopard, he’s happy to share his fire.
When the leopard shifts, Gerrit wants more than words. He’s tired of being alone and unable to connect because of who he is and the secret he needs to keep. He doesn’t expect to see the snow leopard again.
The next time they meet, Malcolm realizes who the phoenix is and how he missed his chance. With a magic-fueled blizzard closing in and no means of escape, he fails to act again. Instead, when Gerrit offers him shelter on his estate and in his bed, he accepts. Even though the lie eats him up. How can he kill a man who cares about his country, his family, his staff, and a stranger so much?
With lives on the line and too many secrets being kept, revealing the truth may be the only way out of the mess…but it will cost him more than his heart.
Explore the hidden kingdom of Mont de Leucoy in Book 2 of the Brothers of Fire series. This book has a lonely king, a desperate assassin, a snowstorm, spies, lies, and plenty of steam created by the phoenix and the snow leopard.
Chapter One
The snow was soft underfoot, and Malcolm moved silently between the trees and over the rocks. He wasn’t sure if he’d crossed the border from France into Mont de Leucoy, and he didn’t know if he wanted to be there or if he wanted to be lost. If he was lost, he needed to get unlost as at the back of his mind, he was aware that the clock was ticking on his brother and sister’s lives.
What he needed to do was find somewhere to rest for the night. What he really wanted to do was shift back to human. He didn’t like being a cat for so many days in a row. He could feel himself losing touch with the things that mattered to him as a man, like his siblings, and he couldn’t allow that.
For a couple of heartbeats, though, remaining as a snow leopard seemed like the easy option, as the only thing that mattered was survival.
He was pretty sure he could hide in the Alps for the rest of his life, and no one would catch him. While there were towns, there were also plenty of isolated places that a shifter could disappear into. He probably wasn’t the only one roaming.
And if this job went pear-shaped, he might end up spending the rest of his life on four feet in hiding, but it was better than the alternative.
A flurry of sparks caught his eye.
He dropped the bag that he’d been carrying in his mouth and pressed into the dappled shadows, knowing that in the dark and even in daylight, he was all but invisible. He didn’t want people to see him and report a snow leopard in the area. That would raise questions that humans wouldn’t be able to answer. All those big cat sightings around the place were really careless shifters.
The sparks shot upwards and spiraled through the sky. It was several more seconds before Malcolm realized what he was seeing.
There were no hikers and no campfire as he’d feared.
No, that was something else entirely. A bird made of fire. It spun a few times overhead but not too high before returning to ground level, skimming over snow and darting between trees.
He remained motionless, watching, not sure he could trust his eyes.
A phoenix?
There was nothing else it could be. But while he’d heard of dragon shifters, he’d never even heard of a phoenix shifter. Phoenixes were a myth…or they were supposed to be. Yet there it was, sweeping past him like it was enjoying the crisp night air the same as him.
He might be invisible to human eyes, but he was sure the phoenix knew he was crouched there in the shadows. It was the way it turned and came back for another pass. For the first time in his life, he felt like prey. As if the bird with feathers of fire could snatch him up or turn him into a pile of ash that would blow away in the breeze.
Malcolm didn’t like that feeling.
His lips pulled back, ready to snarl and fight. It was an automatic response and one that would do him no good, as the bird seemed to be made entirely of fire. As it flew past, he saw through it as the flames coiled and fluttered around its body.
The bird was fire given life and thought. And it was glorious and terrifying, and he wasn’t sure if he was remaining frozen to be hidden—which was pointless—or out of fear. When the phoenix didn’t return for a third sweep, he forced himself to move, belly still low to the ground as he crept over the snow, his tail sweeping away his footprints as though he didn’t exist.
Fuck, what else were these cursed mountains hiding?
Was a dragon about to step out and eat him?
If one did, no one would ever hear about it. He’d just be another vanished person.
He picked up the bag that he’d been carrying and moved on, cleaving to the shadows in case the phoenix came back. It hadn’t done more than look. Perhaps it was used to all kinds of creatures living in these mountains.
The fur on his back rippled, and he suppressed a shudder. The mountains were suddenly too vast and desolate, making his whiskers tingle. He paused and sniffed and then listened as though expecting to be followed. But it was just him and his paranoia. He didn’t want to be skulking about on his own, even though he was used to running alone and he liked deserted wilderness. He loved to roam the Scottish Highlands when it was too bitterly cold for the humans to be out.
He knew the feeling of uninhabited places when he was the only one for miles. This place had eyes. It had ears and a soul. And he was sure that it knew the real reason he was there.
He spat the bag out as his body convulsed as if he were about to spit out a hairball.
He’d seen people be shot, and he’d been shot at and stabbed once, but watching his mother die on the screen of his phone wasn’t something he could forget.
It was too fresh.
It’s why he was there.
He didn’t want the same thing to happen to his sister. His brother, he couldn’t give a fuck about. It was his brother’s fault that their mother was dead. If he hadn’t fallen in with that gang. Malcolm snarled. There was nothing he could do about it now except complete the mission he’d been given.
Though the world would be a better place without his brother.
He’d argued with Mum so many times. But Rupert was the baby of the family, and she insisted she could help him and that Malcolm should too. She’d had that look in her eye as though his leaving to join the army was the reason his brother had chosen a life of crime. If he stayed in that tiny dead-end town…well, he probably wouldn’t be sneaking through the snow in the middle of the night.
No, he’d have probably gotten drunk, gotten into a fight, and either been killed or killed someone and wound up in jail. Not that people like him often ended up in jail, as the Coven didn’t like that kind of thing. They didn’t want someone popping a shift where humans could see.
The warning that if he took this to the Coven, his sister would face much worse than a bullet rang in his ears. He’d spent a day thinking about it, though. Working out if there was a way he could contact them. While he knew the Coven existed, he didn’t
Yet every step that took him closer was more difficult.
He picked up the bag and carried on, searching for a place to stop for the night.
Through the trees, fire flickered. His throat constricted as if he expected the phoenix to burst through the trees and incinerate him. The way his luck was going, it seemed entirely plausible.
But the flames weren’t moving.
And where there had just been flames a moment ago, there was now a naked man standing next to the campfire.
Fuck, maybe there was a bunch of fugitives hanging out in these mountains. He’d best make friends with them because he might be joining them.
He crept closer, watching as the man pulled on pants, then picked up a bottle and took a drink. Well, that was interesting. This man was the phoenix.
Possibly.
But he didn’t hear or smell anyone else around. They could be the only two people in existence, which didn’t sound bad. If they were the only two people in the world, there was no one to save and no one to kill.
He padded out of the shadows and stood on the other side of the fire. The man glanced at him but didn’t say anything. If he thought it was odd that there was a snow leopard running around the mountains with a bag in its mouth, he gave no indication. His heartbeat didn’t even quicken at the sight of him. This was a man who was used to shifters.
Malcolm dropped the bag that held his clothes. He hadn’t worn clothes in about four days. He hoped he remembered how to use his fingers.
The man said something in French, then smiled. The next words off his lips were in English. “You’re welcome to sit by the fire.” The man lifted a bottle. “Brandy?”
He’d never really been one for brandy, but sitting by the campfire with a half-naked man, who was sometimes a phoenix. Sure, why not. It wasn’t as though his life could get any stranger.
Chapter Two
Gerrit watched the snow leopard. He’d known it was a shifter on his first flyover. And not just because this wasn’t snow leopard territory. It was the way the leopard had watched him as if it also knew he was a shifter.
Animals, true animals, tended to run from him because they feared fire. The leopard hadn’t been afraid. In much the same way that he wasn’t afraid as it approached the fire like some overgrown, fluffy cat.
The fact that it was carrying a bag, which no doubt held clothes, in its mouth was another clue that it was a shifter.
Gerrit took a swig of the brandy straight from the bottle. He was sure his bodyguards would be unimpressed that he was drinking alone and far from help. His brothers, too.
But this was one of those rare occasions where he was actually alone. Usually, from the moment he woke up to the moment he sat down in his lounge room for the evening, there were people around him. His valet, his ministers, wanting to discuss the running of the country. Kaine, his brother, wanting to discuss the security of the country.
His security, his driver, the cleaners, and other staff. The list was endless. Even when he sat down for an evening to watch TV or read, someone would come in to see if he wanted tea. Was there anything he needed? Could he just do this…
And until last week, Dalmon had been in the castle with his fated mate… who wasn’t now his fated mate because the witch had given up his magic.
The love that must exist between them, to give up the bond, and know that was the best thing for them, and to still crave the other. He’d never seen his brother so happy. Not in this life, anyway. And from the book of Gerrit’s previous life, Dalmon hadn’t been happy then either. Gerrit was pleased for him, even though it came with a side of bitterness, as all Dalmon’s visit had done was reinforce the emptiness of his own life.
With Everest gone to pursue university in London and work at the Coven, Gerrit was forced to admit that Everest was no longer a child in need of care. For so long, he’d poured himself into the raising of the man who was supposedly his son that he’d been able to overlook the growing, yawning chasm of loneliness. Now, it had caught him, and he was stuck in the darkness of its maw with no way out.
The snow was cold beneath his feet. He was going to need to dress, even though he ran hotter than a human. He had to appear human or, to other paranormals, a fire witch.
This man had already seen him as a phoenix.
Which wasn’t great, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Half a kilometer away was his lodge, all his security, and all the other people he was supposed to be surrounded by for his own protection. This was still his estate, but he might as well be on the moon.
He was alone. And he liked the frisson of danger in his blood.
He’d waited for them to go to bed, and the ones who were up on guard duty, he knew how to slip past. It was a security breach he should fix, but it had been like that for years.
This was the first time he had encountered another shifter on any of his secret outings. That he had secret outings would be something his brothers would decry.
Probably for reasons like this.
The only shifters creeping around the mountains at night were doing so to hide—much like him. He couldn’t shift where others could see.
So what was the leopard up to?
He took another drink and gave the bottle a wiggle.
It was not the first time he’d helped a shifter in trouble.
The leopard hunched over, back arching, and gave a full-body shudder. Thirty seconds later, a man crouched where a leopard had been. His skin still had the dark markings, though now they seemed more like bruises. He took a couple of breaths as though needing to recover from the shift, and as he did, the marks faded.
He only had to grow or lose fur and a tail.
When Gerrit shifted, he became nothing but flames. That was fun, almost like peeling his own skin off with a white-hot knife. His skin was smudged with ash, and sometimes, that first breath felt as though it was searing his lungs.
The leopard shifter tilted his head and cracked his neck, then looked up. “I’ll take the offer of the drink.”
His voice was rough, as though it hadn’t been used in a while. For how long had he been living wild?
But if he was planning to live as a leopard. Why carry a bag of clothes?
Gerrit walked over, the snow cold beneath his bare feet, and handed him the bottle. It seemed as though the cold didn’t bother the man because he stood and took a drink before he bothered to put on clothes. Was that part of his shifter gifts?
The man was a little taller, though he was stockier, with light brown hair that gleamed with red in the firelight. His chest was dusted with the same golden hair that darkened as it became a thin line running from navel to groin. He let his gaze linger on the man’s cock for less than a second, even though it was tempting to watch for longer as he liked what he saw.
There were a couple of scars that indicated he’d seen some trouble, and the tattoo on his arm could be military or trouble-related. From the few words he’d said, he had a Scottish accent that had had the edges filed off.
The man lifted his eyebrow as if noticing Gerrit’s appraisal and offered him the bottle. “Nice night for it.”
There’d been a few passing liaisons since the death of his wife, including an actress, but she’d desperately wanted to have children, and she’d been human. He’d ended it because he could never give anyone children. None of his brothers could either. After that, it had been easier to find the occasional comfort with a man.
But even that was hard to do in his position.
“It is,” Gerrit agreed, though he wasn’t sure if they were talking about shifting or something else. He was aware of the way the man’s gaze tracked over him as though he were prey that needed to be sized up. His dick throbbed, lifting the fabric of his track pants. The shifting heat was running hot in his blood, and it had been so long since he’d reveled in it with someone else.
Were they going to talk about why they were roaming the mountain in the middle of the night? It’s not as if it was a good cruising spot. No, he’d been told the boat sheds by the lake on Everest’s estate were good for that.
