Rose, the middle-aged swan shifter who owned the Full Moon, was indeed giving their corner a narrow-eyed look from behind the bar. All the firefighters subsided at once, like guilty schoolchildren who’d just realized the teacher had returned.
No one wanted to get on the wrong side of Rose…mainly because it would also mean attracting Ash’s wrath. And the Phoenix was not someone you wanted to piss off.
Not for the first time, Hugh wondered just what was Ash’s connection to Rose. It was clear the pair had some sort of history, but the Phoenix was even more closed-mouthed about his secrets than Hugh himself. For her part, Rose seemed entirely oblivious to the fact that she had the most powerful shifter in Europe wrapped around her little finger.
“Now,” Ash said, fixing Hugh with his unnervingly calm, fathomless eyes. “I would like an explanation, Hugh. Why did you break protocol by removing the witnesses from the scene?”
“I just…” Hugh’s hands clenched on the edge of the table. “I just felt sorry for her, okay?”
Griff’s eyebrows shot up. “Who are you, and what have you done with our paramedic?”
“Hugh, you never feel sorry for anyone,” Dai said. “You once berated me for three solid minutes while I was literally bleeding out on the floor.”
“You deserved it,” Hugh retorted. “And you were perfectly fine. It takes at least five minutes to bleed to death from the femoral artery.”
Ash tapped one finger on the table, drawing their attention again. “Hugh, while I appreciate your professional desire to put the needs of your patients first, the police were not pleased by your actions today. They have submitted a formal complaint to me.”
“So?” It wouldn’t be the first—or even the fifth—black mark he’d collected. “You going to fire me?”
A hint of exasperation entered Ash’s usually impenetrable expression. “You know that your talents are invaluable to the team. Nonetheless, I would appreciate it if you would refrain from putting me in a difficult situation. Again.”
Hugh dropped his gaze, feeling a twinge of guilt. The Phoenix had always shielded him from questions, providing a safe space where Hugh could secretly put his power to good use without attracting too much attention. Hugh would forever be grateful to him for that. The Phoenix deserved better from him in return.
“Sorry, Commander,” he muttered. “It won’t happen again.”
“Pity it’s not likely to,” Chase said, picking up his beer. “But if you do somehow find yourself dangling that damn wyvern over an elevator shaft again in the future, do us all a favor and drop the vicious little bi-”
It wasn’t a conscious decision. Before Chase had even finished the sentence, Hugh was vaulting across the table at him, driven by pure, white-hot fury. His fist connected with the pegasus shifter’s nose with a very satisfying crunch.
Chase toppled backward in a crash of breaking glass. Griff and Dai shot to their feet, grabbing Hugh’s arms to restrain him. The searing pain of their bare hands jolted him back to his senses.
“What the hell, Hugh?” Chase sounded too startled to be angry. He struggled upright, blood streaming down his face. “What in God’s name is the matter with you?”
His chest heaved, his own breath sounding loud as a chainsaw in the deathly silence. Every shifter in the pub was staring at him in frozen shock.
“Hugh!” Rose descended on them like a small, plump thundercloud, her dark eyes flashing. “Heaven knows we all want to thump Chase sometimes, but you know there’s no brawling in my pub.”
“My sincere apologies.” Ash’s hand closed like a manacle around Hugh’s wrist. Hugh's skin prickled with the not-quite-pain of being touched by someone who wasn’t a virgin, but who’d been celibate for decades. “Gentleme
n, assist Rose in cleaning up this mess. Hugh, outside. Now.”
Hugh had no choice but to follow Ash out of the pub. His face burned at the scandalized whispers rising in his wake.
Ash barely waited until the door had closed behind them before rounding on him. The Phoenix’s expression was as controlled as ever, but heat radiated from him like a bonfire.
“Explain,” Ash said, his voice ice-cold.
Hugh scrubbed both hands over his face, struggling to get a grip. His unicorn was still ablaze with fury, wanting nothing more than to charge back into the pub and skewer Chase. He breathed deep, deliberately drawing in Ash’s faint smoke-and-scorched-brass scent. The Phoenix was alpha enough to make even his unicorn grudgingly settle, subdued by the presence of an even greater power.
His first instinct was to invent some lie, claim that he was just stressed and overworked…but he owed Ash the truth.
“Ivy’s my mate,” he said, reluctantly.
The shimmering heat haze surrounding Ash disappeared, as abruptly as if Hugh had dumped a bucket of water over his head. He regarded Hugh for a long, silent moment, his dark eyes even more unreadable than normal.
“I take it,” the Fire Commander said at last, “that this is not cause for celebration.”
Hugh let out a hollow bark of laughter. “It’s an utter disaster.”