Epilogue
OPHELIA
Three Months Later
My professor is hot.
He stands at the head of the room, all of us students in a half circle, facing him as he lectures animatedly about the literary merit of first-person point of view. I think my panties are about to catch on fire.
But I keep that fact to myself.
No need to traumatize my fellow students or fluster the already-blushing professor.
After four weeks in his class, I’d have thought Professor Shelly would be better at ignoring my I want to fuck you the second we get off this campus eyes.
But the witch is hopeless, so I drop my horny gaze to my notebook and listen to him teach.
“Your assignment for the next class is to choose a prompt from the syllabus, write a five-hundred-word scene in third-person limited. Then, rewrite the same scene in first person. I want you to experiment with different writing styles so you can discover how you personally enjoy telling stories.” He turns off the projector, which is a sign that we can start packing up.
“Don’t forget to swing by my office hours if you have questions. Have a good evening.”
With that, we are officially dismissed. I take my time packing up my belongings, giving my classmates an opportunity to claim the professor’s attention. A young woman with half her head shaved asks him about tense—our choice—and then he’s free.
“That was a good lesson.” I offer the compliment as I prop my hip on the table beside the podium and wait for Broderick to unhook his laptop and slip it into his bag. “I’ve already got ideas.”
“Oh, really?” He tries to sound only mildly interested, playing the game we do here. Student and professor. Nothing more.
I enrolled at Ramla starting this fall, working toward a history degree.
Also, I’m auditing one creative writing course.
This way, I can learn about an interesting subject, but there’s no true conflict of interest because Broderick isn’t grading any of my work. Not officially anyway.
“Yeah. Only I’m wondering if there’s a restriction on what I can write about.” I keep my voice casual.
The witch adjusts the strap of his bag. “Only that it should fit with one of the prompts.”
“I think this does, but”—I lean close, lowering my voice even though we’re alone in the room—“the story might be slightly erotic.”
He doesn’t respond. Not other than clasping one of my hands in his and tugging me toward the exit.
“Wait,” I gasp while grinning. “Where are you taking me, Professor Shelly?”
Broderick’s spine goes rigid, and he turns blazing eyes on me.
“Home. Where I can teach you a lesson about what it does to me when you call me Professor Shelly.” My witch glances around quickly, eyes frantic, then drags me in for a hot, desperate kiss.
He’s breathing heavily when we part. “I love you so fucking much.”
I cup his face. “I love you too.” Then, I rub my nose against his. “Sorry for torturing you with sex eyes. You’re too tempting.”
He groans and drags me—laughing—from the room.
Days like this help me forget about the pain and fear from my past.
So does therapy. Jack got me in touch with a professional he talks to. A mythic. Ame had originally encouraged him to go to counseling. The wolf admitted that he was reluctant to talk to a stranger at first, but he’s found it helpful.
And now, I do too.
The panic and anxiety attacks are less frequent, and I have tools for managing them when I can’t avoid slipping into that bad space.
Broderick’s magic is always the final option, and when I’m struggling, I know his eyes are on my chest. Waiting for me to press a fist to my heart.
Simply knowing that he has the power to ease the twisted pressure in my chest and head offers a sense of safety.
As we step into the twilight of the evening, a welcoming hoot sounds from overhead, and a large barn owl wings down from the branch where she’s been waiting for us.
“Hello, Moonlight. Have a good sleep?” Broderick reaches up to offer his finger for a gentle, affectionate nip. The familiar trills another note before soaring away. She’ll arrive at his window later tonight, tapping her beak on the glass of the kitchen window in a demand for admittance.
There’s a perch for her in almost every room of the witch’s house, though she spends most of her time in the woods.
Before I can break off and head for my truck, Broderick pulls me in for another kiss—chaste in case his students are around.
“I’ll see you at my place?” he asks, as if there’s somewhere else I’d rather be.
“I’ll be right behind you.”
But then his phone chimes, and when Broderick glances at the screen, he groans.
“What’s up?”
“Mor wants me to close up the library for her.” He turns his screen so I can see. “She has a monster emergency.”
I grimace in sympathy. For his sister, not for him—Broderick will get laid tonight, just a bit later than he was hoping. A delay in his sex life is nothing compared to what Mor is going through.
She finally found a safe way to break the enchantment on the metal statue and free the being within.
Things have not gone well since.
Jack and I both caused our own slight disturbances in the town when we were freed of our curses.
Even now, things with the wolves are still delicate, and Georgiana never offers me more than a clipped ‘hello’ when we run into each other around town.
However, Jack and I have made efforts to find spaces for ourselves in the community and settle in.
He’s working as a sort of mediator between the two wolf packs, and I’ve met with some harpies and sirens—more open-minded ones than Georgiana—about establishing a safe space for flying in our mythic forms, probably aided by some helpful witches. Jack and I want to belong.
But this new arrival has a different, more destructive mindset.
Mor has her hands full.
The whole town does.
“Last I recall,” I say in an overly casual voice, “the library has multiple bedrooms. At least two of which are unoccupied.”
Broderick’s face clears of disappointment. “You are a genius. Automatic A.”
I laugh. “You’re not grading me.”
The witch leans in and presses a gentle kiss to my jaw before whispering in my ear, “You should still come by office hours. For extra attention.”
“Are you about to tell me your bedroom is called the office?” I murmur back.
Broderick straightens with a chuckle, and I swear he’s the handsomest being I have ever encountered.
“You know me so well, Ophelia Vatra.”
I grin at his use of my surname. The one I gave myself, plucked from a memory of my mother. Was the name hers? Maybe not, but I like to think it was.
“I wonder though, would you still want to teach me a lesson if, one day, I called you Professor Vatra?”
In my time spent with other mythics in Folk Haven, I’ve learned it’s common among many mythics for a male partner to take a female partner’s surname when they officially mate. My comment was meant to tease, but as the words leave my mouth, I hear the weight they carry.
The future I’m hinting at.
Broderick cradles my cheeks in his hands, his hold gentle, as if I’m as fragile and precious as one of my glass creations. “Please,” he says, “call me Broderick Vatra. Anytime. Anywhere. For as long as you want me.”
And I’m sure that my happiness is pure fire spilling from my skin.
The End
Thank you so much for reading FLIRTING WITH A FIREBIRD. I hope you enjoyed Ophelia & Broderick’s love story! Do you want to spend more time in the mythic-filled Folk Haven? Check out the following books for more magical small town romances.
SEDUCED BY A SELKIE
Folk Haven Book 1
Delta Novac hates Folk Haven, and as soon as she’s done cleaning out her father’s mess of a house, she’s giving the town her taillights.
But after she dives into the lake to save a drowning man that’s not actually in danger, she finds herself with a sweet and sexy selkie shadow ready to do anything to get her to stay.
SUCKER FOR A SIREN
Folk Haven Book 2
Seamus MacNamara refuses to believe in the selkie mating myth: that his one true partner will rescue him from great danger.
So, when the adorably beautiful barista he has a secret crush saves his life, Seamus ends up insulting her instead offering heartfelt thanks.
Now he just wants a chance to redeem himself…
and he’s willing to go down on his knees to earn her forgiveness.
SWEARING AT A SEA MONSTER
Folk Haven Book 3
Moira MacNamara takes shit from no one, and that includes Levi Abadi, the enticing, infuriating monster who thinks he can dictate what she does with her own property. She makes a deal with him, sealed in blood. But now she can’t help noticing how her veins thrum with heat every time he comes near…
SHELTER FOR A SHIFTER
Folk Haven Book 4
Ame Shelly found a cat, but this is no ordinary stray.
She’s almost certain her feline friend is a man stuck in an animal body.
After years of searching, she’s finally found the correct spell to release him from his fuzzy prison.
Only, the man who appears in front of her demands two things: his witch mate and revenge.
If you enjoyed FLIRTING WITH A FIREBIRD, please consider rating and reviewing the book. Reviews help other readers discover my books, which helps me make a living and funds my ability to write more mythical romances for you!