From the Ashes (Phoenix Prologue)

Authors note: This is the prologue to The Phoenix and the Flame. This story is a spin-off of Poison Ivy, and it will follow Trevino and Aella. This short prologue describes the first time Aella and Trevino meet. This gets a little dark, and there are mentions of severe violence and abuse. If you have any triggers, I'd suggest skipping this one.

Soundtrack:

Find You by The World Over

On the Hunt by Neo Noir, Krigare

Middle of the Night by Elley Duhe

Mercy by Hurts

Breathin by Perlo

Shelter by Machineheart

In Your Eyes (feat. Alida) by Robin Schultz, Alida

In the Shadows by Amy Stroup

Riverside by Agnes Obel

......................................

Life was an endless series of marks. A never-ending parade of pockets, waiting to be picked by her nimble fingers. And during a hot summer day like today promised to be, with sunscreen-clad tourists lazily perusing the seaside shops of the boardwalk, those marks would be ripe with opportunity, almost begging to be plucked and harvested.

She hadn't always viewed the world through these petty crime tinted lenses, and part of her mourned the loss of her naïve innocence, but what could she do besides accept the shitty hand that she'd been dealt? She was lucky enough to have Cody in her life, and if keeping her little brother safe and fed meant shifting her focus from faces to wallets, well... She could accept that. Not that she really had much of a choice.

String purses were the easiest. Her slender fingers could sift around in a nearby woman's leather satchel to snatch out whatever valuables they foolishly carried without the wearer feeling even a flutter of movement. Conditions had to be just right; there had to be the perfect balance of crowd and available space. As it was still early, with only the most ambitious of shops setting up racks of clothing and trinkets outside their doors, there was an unfortunate and disappointing lack of easy targets.

She had hoped to fill her quota early today, so she could take Cody up to the bluffs. It had been two weeks since she'd tried to run away, taking Cody, a few girls her age, and some of the youngest members of Derrick's little pickpocket army with her. It'd been over a month since Derrick had allowed them to go anywhere for the sole purpose of pleasure, and his moods had gotten increasingly sporadic and dangerously violent. She and Cody needed a break from their older brother's intensity. Just half a day, that was all she wanted. A few hours to relax and watch Cody play in the sand.

From her spot leaning against one of the tall, wooden posts that framed the walkway leading down to the docks, Aella scanned the growing crowd around her. The impulse to evaluate a potential mark was second nature to her now, and her glacier-blue eyes peaked out from beneath the brim of an old baseball cap, waiting for the perfect target.

There. Her attention locked on to the dark green cargo pants of a slow-moving Alpha. The man effortlessly announced his dynamic with his rigid, authoritative posture and his dominant stride. Alpha pockets were nearly as easy to pick as a woman's loose, hanging purse. They were overconfident and cocky and tended to be complacent with the safety of their belongings. After all, who in their right mind would ever try to steal from a massive, muscled Alpha?

This particular Alpha wasn't exactly massive, per se. Not that he was small, not by any means. But his shoulders lacked the bulging, awkward width she often noticed whenever her increasingly sensitive nose picked up on the masculine, intimidating scent of the dominating dynamic. This man's shoulders were broad, but not overly so. Rather, all parts of his body were well-proportioned, and she watched as muscles flexed and bunched beneath his black Henley t-shirt. Interesting choice for the hot summer day that was just beginning. He had a quiet strength she could sense from half a block away.

She wet her lips as she fell into step behind him, moving silently though the throng of mid-morning shoppers, her eyes glued to the bulge that swayed with his stride in a side pocket. Her pulse picked up a notch, the rush of adrenaline that always accompanied the swipe of a wallet causing her fingers to tremble just the tiniest bit.

The first few times Derrick had turned her and Cody out onto the streets like this, she'd gotten sick to her stomach before she could even get close to a mark. She knew that hacking into bank accounts and stealing from poorly-secured trust funds wasn't exactly a victimless crime, but behind the safety of a keyboard, it was easier to ignore the real-life consequences of her thievery. She preferred to swindle unseen targets.

If it hadn't been for the way Derrick punished Cody on the days she came back empty-handed, she might have refused to cross this particular line. But as her older brother well knew and often exploited, there wasn't anything she wouldn't do for Cody. Her sweet baby brother was the only pure, good thing in her life, untainted despite the crimes they committed to keep Derrick happy, and she would lay down her life if it meant keeping him safe. Stealing a few wallets, as distasteful as she found it, was a small price to pay to keep him from harm.

And now, Cody wasn't the only one Derrick could use against her. Slowly amassing strength-by-numbers and wealth from the hard work of those smaller and weaker than him, Derrick now ran the gang of 30 or so dock rats with brutal discipline. Absently, she circled her right wrist with her left hand, massaging the still-sore joints where she'd been restrained and strung from the ceiling, forced to watch as the eight kids she'd tried to take away were hurt by Derrick's sadistic enforcers. Her own bruises were just starting to heal, and they would completely fade away with time. The guilt of causing such pain to people she just wanted to help, people who were as desperate as she was, as afraid as she was, would always be a part of her.

She picked up her pace as the dark-clad Alpha began to turn, heading into the mouth of the alley between a jewelry shop peddling gorgeous sea-glass pendants, and a cafe already serving aromatic beverages and mouth-watering pastries to patrons seated on a covered patio. Her fingers stretched out, dipping into his pocket as she brushed against him in a feigned stumble, mumbling an embarrassed apology as her hand closed around the money clip she knew would be there. She had already turned away, ready to bolt back down the bustling sidewalk with her bulky prize, when a steel band clamped down across her waist and spun her around, forcing her deeper into the alley.

"Hey! What --"

She had barely gotten a surprised squeak out when she was roughly turned. The Alpha's hand, warm and calloused, came down over her mouth, stifling her yelp of surprise as he pressed her against the cool brick, deep morning shadows obscuring them from the growing crowd. She looked up, meeting the stranger's dark, sable eyes, and stopped breathing.

There was nothing familiar about this man. She knew for a fact she would have remembered eyes that hard and knowing and sad, or a face that devastatingly beautiful. All the same, a bolt of soul-deep recognition struck her chest like lightening, stalling the very blood in her veins.

She had never seen this man before. And yet... she knew him. An overwhelming sense of completion rocked her hard, and from beneath his hand, she breathed a giant sigh of relief. Looking at him was like coming home, a home she'd never had.

"You," he whispered, tracing the features of her face as his eyes widened and his grip on her loosened. For a moment, they could do nothing but stare, stunned silence stretching between them as they drank each other in.

He shook his head a little, as if to clear it, and lifted the hand from her mouth to brace it against the brick by the side of her head. His eyes drifted down to where her fingers still clutched the money clip, her knuckles turning white from the strain of her tight hold. He grabbed her wrist, dragging it up to hold it in front of her face. "What is this?" he asked, his voice ice cold and much too soft. She shivered, swallowing past the lump of terror that was quickly rushing in to replace her momentary, stunned surprise. Her mouth was so dry, she couldn't have answered him even if she'd wanted to. She shook her head, trying to release her grip on the wallet, only to have him move his hand down to close over her trembling fingers.

Giving her another little shake, he spoke again, his voice so dark and rich and smooth she thought she might drown in it. "What. Is. This?" he repeated, and this time, entirely of its own accord, her mouth opened to provide the only acceptable answer she could think of.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her eyes widening at the flash of anger she watched cross his features.

He cursed under his breath, releasing her hand to run his fingers through the inky strands of hair just long enough to graze the top of his eyebrows. "Foolish girl," he muttered, as he continued to rake his gaze over her, taking in the baggy, grey plaid button-up she'd rolled halfway up her forearms, obscuring the curves that grew more defined every day, and the torn jeans held up by a cracked leather belt cinched tight around her waist. "Risking yourself for nothing. Why?" A quick movement flicked the baseball cap from her head, releasing her long, sunshine locks to cascade down around her face.

"What do you need so badly, that you would put yourself in this kind of danger?" Impossibly, his eyes darkened as he spoke, and she could feel his growing anger as his fingers reached up and tightened around her chin.

She blinked. What? She had been caught red-handed, right in the middle of robbing the man, and he was worried about her safety?

"Answer me," he growled, pressing closer, crowding her against the rough brick wall.

"I...." she bit her lip, trying to focus. What had he asked? His presence was all around her, drowning her senses. She couldn't think. He was beautiful and terrifying; she couldn't look away.

A mental image of Cody with a bloody nose and a black eye, his little hands balled into angry fists, flashed through her mind, and she straightened. "My brother," she finally said, lifting her chin defiantly under his scrutinizing glare. Everything she did, she did for Cody, and she wouldn't apologize. The man stroking his thumb across her jaw might kill her on the spot, but she would have no regrets.

His eyes softened suddenly, and he stepped back, giving her room to catch her breath. She rested her head against the wall at her back, gulping in air, trying to settle her shaking hands.

"What's your name?" he asked, that dark, smooth voice washing over her in sensual waves. Something in her core tightened as goosebumps broke out over her skin.

"Aella," she breathed, unthinking. Shit! Why had she given him her name? Her real name?

"Aella," he repeated back, slowly, like he was tasting it as it rolled off his tongue.

"Are you hungry, Aella?" he asked softly, reaching up again to stroke a finger down her cheek. Seriously? That was his big concern right now?

She shook her head. "No," she lied.

And of course, her stomach chose that moment to growl loudly, calling her bluff. His eyes sparked with the barest hint of amusement, and he reached for her hand, pulling her away from the wall as he steered her toward the café. As he dragged her away from the shadows, pulling her out of the alley, he lifted her hand, the hand still holding on to the money clip with trembling fingers. He stopped abruptly, spinning her again so that her forearm was in direct sunlight. His jaw flexed, and she could feel the barely contained fury coiled tight in the muscles of his body, even as his fingers gentled to stroke the bruised skin of her arm.

Startled, she tried to tug her hand out of his hold, but a low, rumbling growl stilled her attempts to move away. She looked down to where he was lifting and rotating her arm, his fingers skimming over the discolored skin of her wrists. With quick, smooth movements, he tugged the oversized sleeves of her shirt up, revealing more discolorations. Her skin was peppered with bruises in various stages of healing.

"You will tell me who did this," he snarled as he continued to inspect the skin he could easily expose. It wasn't a question; it was a demand. He didn't look to her for confirmation. The way his fingertips caressed the sensitive, smooth flesh of her forearm felt like millions of little electrical shocks combusting wherever he put his skin on hers.

When he released her hand, pulling her flannel back over her arm, she felt almost... disappointed. His careful touches had felt so good. She couldn't remember the last time anyone other than Cody had touched her without causing her pain, and his hands were so strong, but gentle; calloused, but warm.

Moments later, she felt his palm curl around the back of her neck in a surprisingly possessive gesture. "Come with me," he demanded, already urging her forward. Maybe she should have resisted. Breaking free from his physical and mental hold to run as fast and as far as she could, had probably been the best thing to do. But she didn't do any of those things. At that moment, she would have given years of her life away to spend just a few more minutes with this familiar stranger.

As it turned out, she didn't need to bargain with the devil. Derrick had already signed her soul away.

...........................................

He watched her carefully, suppressing a frown as she devoured the fresh fruit, eggs, and spinach crepe with a light cream sauce he'd ordered for her once they had claimed a small, intimate two-top in the corner of the covered patio. Her slim figure was too small beneath the layers of baggy clothing. Her cheeks were sunken and there were dark circles beneath her glacier-blue eyes.

It was clear she wasn't getting enough food, and the thought enraged him. And those bruises on her arms... He couldn't think about them in her presence. If he lost control of his feral rage, she'd be terrified and would never trust him. And he needed her to trust him.

She was his. He'd recognized her immediately; her scent, her glacier blue eyes, her silken locks the color of starlight. He had never seen her before, but she was, without a doubt, meant for him. And he was keeping her. She didn't know it yet, but her life was about to change.

She looked up at him, those startling blue eyes causing his pulse to race as they blinked up through thick lashes, the curtain of her starlight hair falling around her face like a halo. Not a single word in his vocabulary could describe her. She was beyond beautiful; beyond breathtaking.

"Tell me about your brother," he said softly, noting the way her shoulders tensed, and the subtle dilation of her pupils. Her chest rose and fell with a single, deep breath.

"Why do you care?"

He didn't bother responding; he just continued raking his gaze over her as he waited for her to speak.

After a minute of silence, she sighed and crossed her arms. "I have two brothers. Cody is 11, and Derrick is 20. Our parents died years ago. Instead of getting lost in the foster care system, we left our old home before social services could catch up with us."

Her fingers absently spun the plastic straw in her glass, the tinkling of ice like a soundtrack to a summer morning. Her shoulders slumped slightly. "Cody was... is... so young, and he's been through so much." She looked up, meeting his eyes with her own narrowed gaze. "He's not good at picking pockets. He's too innocent for it. Too good. I stay later and work harder to make sure our quotas are met."

"You take care of Cody." He'd seen how her eyes had softened as she'd talked about her little brother.

She nodded. "He's the one good thing in my life. I'd do anything to protect him."

His hands flexed and clenched under the table. They would revisit this quota she was so desperate to make a little later.

There was something very strange about this girl. He guessed she was 15 or 16 years old. There was nothing off or odd about her scent, except for the fact that it held no clue whatsoever as to her dynamic, a dynamic that should have become apparent years ago. He couldn't get a good read on it. Watching her was like watching an opal in sunlight, the stone's colors transient and rhythmic. Any particular color was there and gone in an instant. Despite her ambiguity, he sensed she was Omega, although he couldn't say why he thought so.

He wondered if she had been doing something to mask her dynamic. Once an adolescent's scent changed, Omegas were swiftly picked up and brought to one of the large Compounds around Lostra, where they were protected, guarded and tutored. After they'd reached the age of 19, they were considered ready to be mated. A matchmaker was typically put to the task of finding a suitable pairing, and the list of applicants for an Omega mate usually only included high ranking Alpha officers and distinguished political leaders.

He thought it was all bullshit. The system was corrupt and disgusting. His deceased sister had presented as an Omega earlier than most, at just 11 years old. What had happened to her had been... horrific. Social justice groups were constantly petitioning for the release of Omegas from the prison-like Compounds, and were usually shot down by the argument that Alpha and Beta citizens wouldn't be able to control themselves around the smaller, weaker dynamic, and taking them from their homes at a young age to be taught how to pleasure old men was a form of necessary protection. If Aella had been doing something to mask her true dynamic, he would have understood why.

Many people had died after his sister's murder. Not nearly enough, but it was a decent start. This argument of Omegas needing protection from the 'uncontrollable urges' of Alphas and Betas was fundamentally flawed, and clearly a way to justify oppression. The problem was not an Omega's scent. It was not an Omega's weakness or small size. The problem was the way society made excuses for rapists and murderers because they couldn't control themselves. It was in the assumption that Omegas could contribute nothing more than a pleasurable body to the men and women they were parceled out to.

"What's you're name?" Aella's sweet voice brought him out of his dark, brooding thoughts and painful memories. He looked up, marveling again at the depth of her glacier blue eyes, and the way her creamy skin seemed to cast a soft glow under the light of the sun.

"Trevino," he answered simply. He didn't share his first name. That name belonged to a dead man.

He watched as she fidgeted in her seat, looking around at the café's other patrons. "I'm not dressed very appropriately, am I?" she asked self-consciously. He followed her gaze, not to confirm her statement, but to understand the source of her discomfort. The café was upscale, with an eggshell white and shimmering gold color scheme. Most of the patrons around them were strutting themselves around like peacocks. The women wore elegant sundresses that would have looked more appropriate at a cocktail party, instead of a breakfast café on the sea wall. It looked as if the men had coordinated with each other prior to their arrival, as they all wore khaki trousers and pastel colored polo shirts.

He couldn't care less about what other people were wearing. Aella outshone them all, and judging by the nasty looks she'd been getting from the women, and the leering stares from the men, they all knew it. He cracked his knuckles as he noted every hungry gaze cast her way and the male it belonged to.