Wings of Exile

by JD Monroe

  When the light faded, he crouched on the ground, breathing heavily. Sweat poured down his back, plastering his hair to his forehead. He combed his hands through his hair, giving her a wicked grin. Fire still gleamed in his eyes. “What did you think?”

  She sank to her knees in front of him and grasped his warm, sweat-slick shoulders. “I’ve never felt anything like that.”

  “Try again,” he said. “That was—"

  “Stop talking,” she murmured, yanking him forward as she lunged to meet him. Curling her arm around his neck, she kissed him, tongue searching his mouth. She couldn’t get close enough to him.

  “Shit,” he murmured, returning the kiss and sucking at her lip. The connection between them held, warming from her chest and spilling like molten lava down her spine.

  He put his hands on her chest and pushed her away for a minute. Her cheeks went hot as the sting of rejection pricked at her, but he wasn’t trying to get away. His strong hands found the hem of her shirt and yanked it up, tangling her arms over her head. With her arms pinned, he kissed the base of her throat as his hands deftly unhooked her bra. Another thrill of heat flooded her senses as she wriggled free of the shirt, leaning into his touch. His rough hand against her peaked nipple sent a shudder through her. Grasping the sides of his face, she straddled him to get closer, desperate for his skin against hers. Now that she’d felt it, she needed to be one with him again, to be enveloped in his blazing aura.

  Moving slowly against him, she relished the pressure of his hardness against her aching center. He groaned against her mouth, slipping his hand down to the small of her back to pull her tighter to him. “I need you closer,” he murmured. With his free hand, he fumbled at the button of her jeans.

  Her heart raced. She felt a sense of urgency that she was racing against time, grasping at something that would soon crumble to ash. Warmth exploded between her legs as his hand slipped into her jeans and teased her.

  “This isn’t fair, you know,” he said in her ear, nipping at her lobe.

  She twisted her head into the warmth of his lips. “What?”

  His deft touch sent lightning through her. She gasped, but he smiled. “You still have these on.” Despite his words, she was trapped, one hand at her back and the other between her legs. “Take them off.”

  She groaned as he withdrew his hand and leaned back on his elbow to watch. Fumbling, she slid her jeans down over her hips. With his hands no longer on her, the heat of lust faded and left her in a rising tide of insecurity. There was nowhere to hide from his ravenous gaze, no security of a dark room or tangled sheets.

  Avoiding his eyes, she crossed her arms over her stomach. He frowned, reaching out for her with one hand. “Are you all right?”

  “I don’t like the way I look.”

  “Look at me,” he commanded. He sat up, taking one hand lightly. She raised her eyes. He looked concerned. “Are you insane?”

  She gaped at him. “Huh?”

  He gripped her hips, staring up at her. “You are a masterpiece. A work of art,” he said. Gently, he pulled her down to straddle him. His rough hands left a blazing trail as he stroked her thighs. “I like what I see very much.” One hand grazed upward, stoking the fire between her legs. “If you don’t want me, say so. But don’t convince yourself that I don’t want you.”

  “I do,” she whispered. “Want you, I mean.”

  He pulled her to him, tongue dancing against hers as his fingers moved below. She gasped as a tremor shook her, just a warning of what was to come. “I want you,” he breathed against her lips. “All of you.”

  “I’m yours,” she replied. He broke away, watching her intently as she stroked him gently. His eyes fluttered, hips rising toward her. Without speaking, he leaned back, and she guided him into herself. Her muscles tensed at the fullness of him. His back arched, and she rested there for a moment, taking in the full beauty of his body. Every line and curve was precise, as if he’d been carved from flawless bronze stone.

  The connection surged to life, a white-hot flame burning up her spine. There it was. She began to move in a slow, undulating rhythm. The delicious friction stoked the flames, engulfing and consuming her.

  There was something between them she had never felt. Was it magic? Was it pure animal lust? All she knew was that there was fire in her veins and lightning on her skin. Every nerve was a live wire. And as they moved together, skin on skin, the thin thread of their connection bloomed into something more powerful. They were flying again, moving instinctively with the other.

  There was something beyond the sheer physicality. She sensed abstractions, broad strokes of emotion that rose above the waves of pleasure. Vulnerability. Comfort. A sense of belonging.

  “Vazredakh,” he breathed, gripping her hips tightly. She couldn’t speak, could barely get a full breath as her chest heaved. The sheer sensation jolting through her like lightning strikes was almost too much, each one cresting higher and higher. It had never been like this.

  A wave of flame exploded through her, enveloping her in fiery bliss. For a moment, the world went black, and then returned with flickering flame licking at her vision. As her sight returned, she stared down at Erevan. His eyes were wide, sweat trickling from his brow as he stared up at her.

  He glanced down at his left shoulder. “I think you got the hang of the lightning.”

  There was a blistered handprint on his golden skin. “Oh my God!” She recoiled and clapped her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry!”

  “No, no.” He sounded amused. He grabbed her hand, pulling her down toward him. Her forearms rested on his chest. “I’m fine. I’ve never been struck by lightning in bed. I hope it’s a good sign.”

  “But you—"

  “I’m fine.” He kissed her forehead. “Are you…are you sure you’re all right? With that?”

  She hesitated. “I’m great,” she said with a laugh. Her entire body felt loose and warm.

  He smiled faintly and held up his hand. She instinctively followed the gesture, letting him entwine his fingers with hers. Without thinking, the connection twanged between them. “I guess that helped.”

  “Sohan said it would.”

  His jaw dropped. “Sohan. We just…and you’re bringing up Sohan?”

  She laughed. “He told me that we didn’t have to fuck, but it could help. His words, not mine.”

  “Oh, so you’re just following his advice?” Erevan teased.

  “No,” she said, cheeks flushing.

  He shifted, resting on his elbow so he could see her. Though they were no longer entwined, she felt his presence around her still. “Why did you break away from me before? When I kissed you?”

  She hesitated. “Things were moving so fast. And I was afraid you wouldn’t like me.”

  “Your body, you mean,” he said. As he said it, he traced the curve of her hip, leaving a tingling trail. “Why would you think that?”

  “Bad memories.” Erevan raised his eyebrows. “When Mom got sick, I put my whole life on hold. I didn’t eat right, didn’t exercise. I was always at her place or at the hospital, especially at the end. When she died, I didn’t care about what I looked like, and I’d gained a lot of weight. About two months after she passed, my boyfriend, Devin, decided it was time I got over it. He said I’d let myself go, and I should consider getting to the gym to take care of myself.” She scowled. “It would be good for me, he said. For the grieving process, of course.”

  Erevan’s jaw dropped. “He said this to you? After your mother died?” She nodded. “Our people go into a year of mourning after the death of a family member. To say such a thing would be the height of insult.”

  She shrugged. “Not to him.”

  “Would you like for me to immolate him?”

  She laughed. “No. I think he meant well.”

  “He was a fucking idiot. You are beautiful.” As if to punctuate the statement, he ran his hands over her hips, up her stomach, tracing the lines of her body. His touch reawakened
the sensitive nerves, sending a shiver through her.

  “Well, I lost the weight.” Her breath caught in her throat, making her voice shake. “That’s how I met Thea.”

  “You would have been beautiful before,” he said. “And if I had a chance, I would rip Devin’s spine out through his asshole.”

  “You can do that?”

  “I would definitely give it my best effort.”

  She laughed again. “We barely know each other. Why do you care so much?”

  “I also know what it is to be rejected.” The mirth evaporated from his face. He let his hand rest on her arm, tracing a small circle over the veins on her wrist. His warm eyes were distant as he spoke, the smile turning into a haunted expression. “A woman, long ago. I thought that there was something ugly and broken in me for many years. The other night, I thought you had seen whatever she saw.”

  “Oh God, no,” she said. “I just freaked out. There’s nothing ugly about you.”

  He smiled bitterly. “That’s not true, but it’s kind of you to say so. I don’t fully understand this connection between us. But I know I’ve never felt anything like it before. I feel like a drowning man, and touching you is my air.”

  “Well that’s something,” she said. “Does the connection make us want each other?”

  “Maybe a little, but I thought you were hot before we ever touched,” he said with a wry smile. “And you obviously felt the same way about me.”

  “I did not.” He smirked. She was a terrible liar.

  “You definitely did. I can tell when your temperature rises.” Tracing his finger from her arm to her breast, he raised an eyebrow. “Like it is right now.”

  She gaped at him as another gentle tremor rippled through her. “Not fair when you do that.”

  He shrugged and swept one arm out in a languorous stretch. Following the carved perfection of his arm drew her attention to the textured rubber floor.

  Oh, God.

  She sat bolt upright. They’d just done the deed on a rubber gym floor. Her stomach sank. “We’re going to get caught.”

  “Nah,” he said. “We have to unlock the door from the inside. Safety protocol so someone doesn’t walk into a fireball.” He stroked her hip again. “We should probably get some rest.” He kissed her forehead as his hand found its way down her thigh, then up again.

  Her body was still aflame, and it took only the light touch of his finger to send a jolt of sensation ricocheting through her. “Probably.”

  “Maybe in a minute.”

  “Maybe.”

  Something had changed within Erevan. He had hidden himself behind a wall of impenetrable stone for the last fifteen years. Natalie, with lightning in her soul, had resuscitated that part of him that he had denied for so long. The connection between them had intensified everything, but it wasn’t only about sex. That had been fantastic, but he’d first realized that things had changed when she shouted at him for leaving her behind. She was infuriated with him for endangering himself. It wasn’t just that he’d wounded her ego by leaving her, but that he’d risked himself. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her, and he’d forgotten what that felt like.

  Erevan was grim but determined as he packed a handful of essentials into a crescent-shaped bag. Like the harness Lilya wore in her hawk form, the bag was enchanted to withstand the expansion of his frame. He threw in his phone, a small knife, and a pair of pants so he didn’t have to fight with his junk flapping in the wind. He didn’t know how else to prepare. Carrying a real weapon would be difficult, and he was in trouble if he had to fight in human form instead of as a dragon anyway.

  Natalie was in the bathroom, doing something with her hair while he finalized his preparations. She’d returned to spend the night in his quarters, though they’d just slept after a few pleasantly exhausting rounds of “practice” in the training ring. There was something indescribable about the warm solidity of her, a heartbeat that accompanied his own like the drums pounding outside. This had been the best night of Festival he’d ever had.

  Despite his promise to her, he was tempted to leave while she was occupied. If he ran out the door, she wouldn’t catch up in time. Last night had made it easier to bond with her, but it had made it infinitely harder to acknowledge that he would be risking her safety by taking her into battle.

  But what other choice did they have? If Sohan could recruit hybrids who’d already grasped their power, he could have more fighters ready in a few days. But Erevan feared Thea and Lilya didn’t have that kind of time, to say nothing of the unknown numbers of other victims Dornan held. If Dornan was shrewd, he would destroy all the evidence and run. They’d be lucky if he hadn’t already.

  No, Erevan had to act now or not at all, and Natalie was essential to his survival.

  She emerged from the bathroom with her hair secured in a tight bun atop her head. She wore all black, borrowed from Ruana.

  “That’s a new look,” he commented.

  “Harder to grab.” She hitched up the pants and checked her bag for the handgun before securing it in a holster clipped to her belt.

  “Going prepared, I see.”

  “You breathe fire. This is the best I’ve got.”

  He nodded. “Fair enough.” When she was finished dressing, he kissed the top of her head. “There’s still time to walk away. You don’t have to do this.”

  “Yes, I do,” she replied. “Don’t you dare ditch me.”

  “I wouldn’t.” He grasped her shoulders. “But you have to follow my lead. If I tell you to get out, you get out. Run until you can’t run anymore.”

  They had already programmed numbers to contact Rosak and the others into both of their phones, in case one failed. “I will. I promise.”

  He pulled her in close. Without thinking about it, her mind met his. Though Sohan called it a psychic bond, he couldn’t read Natalie’s thoughts. But he felt emotions, in broad, beautiful strokes. Last night he’d felt her attraction and lust for him, as well as the security and comfort of being in his presence, which only amplified his own feelings. Now, he felt a steady determination, though there was also the shaky hint of fear.

  I will not let anything happen to you. He would die before he let harm come to her.

  They were quiet as they walked toward the underground parking compound. Rosak, Piryne, and Garid were already waiting there. Two of the black SUVs idled in the main lane of traffic, with a third ready to pull out behind them. A fleet of dragons flying over the city would attract too much attention, so they would rendezvous a few miles out from the facility Lilya had located. Erevan and Natalie would go in, then send the signal via phone once the weapon was disabled. The others would then come in with wings and guns blazing.

  Ruana was driving the second vehicle in the caravan. She got out of the car as they approached. Without speaking, she grasped either side of his face and kissed his forehead. “Zaare en tahl Isinaa.” The old-fashioned blessing that reminded him of his grandmother. Stay in the Skymother’s sight.

  “I will.”

  Ruana leaned past him and eyeballed Natalie. “Did you two…”

  “God, Ru, how do you do that? So nosy.”

  She sniffed the air. “You smell like a man who had a very good night.”

  “I showered.”

  “I was just bluffing,” she replied. Her grin lit up her entire face. “But thanks for confirming. Tell her I’ll light her on fire if she hurts you.”

  He chuckled. “It was just for—"

  Sharp pain exploded in his arm as Ruana punched him hard. “Don’t be an asshole. We talked about this. I know you care for her.”

  “Okay. I do.” Saying it aloud made his throat close up as a sudden wave of emotion swept over him. “I really do.”

  “Good.” Her playful expression evaporated. “I wish I could come with you, but they said she can’t cover both of us. If anything goes wrong, get out. Don’t be a hero.”

  “Let’s get moving,” Rosak shouted, his booming voice echo
ing off the concrete walls. “Skyblaze, you’re with us in the front.”

  The drive to the rendezvous was quiet, with the only the robotic GPS voice breaking the silence. As they drew closer, Erevan couldn’t help worrying about Lilya. He felt responsible for her fate, since she had been dispatched at his request. Were they torturing her to find out what she knew, who she was in communication with? Or had they killed her on the spot?

  “Here we go,” Rosak said as he pulled off the two-lane road, bumping over the terrain and into the trees. The other two vehicles had stopped a mile back to wait for the go signal. The Tempest agent parked and climbed out of the vehicle.

  Erevan and Natalie joined him. The bigger man looked him over, and Erevan expected another thinly-veiled insult. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Rosak asked. He sounded concerned, which was somehow worse than his usual abrasive demeanor.

  Erevan nodded. “We’ll be fine.” He hoped he sounded more certain than he felt.

  The other man didn’t press the issue. Rosak walked through the plan with him again, then turned to Natalie. “You’re armed, correct?”

  She nodded and lifted the front of her shirt to show the holster on her waist. “It’s not much, but it’s something.” Her eyes widened as Rosak drew a large handgun from his own belt and offered it to her. Clearly, the Tempest didn’t share his aversion to firearms.

  “You are authorized to act in self-defense,” Rosak said. “Don’t hesitate. Do you know how to use this one?”

  With practiced precision, Natalie ejected the handgun’s magazine, showed it to Rosak, then reloaded it and yanked the slide back. She examined the side of the gun, then peered at the trigger. “Safety on the trigger?”

  A faint smile whispered across Rosak’s lips. “That’s right. Our kind are well-armored in dragon form. If you have to shoot, aim for the eyes.” He took the clipped holster from his belt and gave it to her. Once she’d situated it and placed the gun in it, Rosak rested one hand on each of their shoulders. “May Shadori, defender of our blessed Skymother, watch over you and bring you victory.”