The Avowed (Shadowed Wings Book 2)

by Ivy Asher

  Did he do this for me? Or am I just along for the ride with him?

  I’m tempted to close my eyes and let myself fully relax like the dimple-chinned Altern of the Avowed currently is, but as right as the sky feels, the world is still all kinds of wrong. I take in my surroundings, and with surprise, realize that the water surrounding the island of Kestrel City isn’t that of a lake like my first glimpse suggested. The island is actually positioned in the middle of a colossal and very fast-moving river. The water looks calm and peaceful all around the city, but from this height, I can see that it becomes frothy and dangerous as the rapids meet rocky outcrops further down. Beyond that, the river leaps off a cliff and dives down to places that I can’t see. Lush forest lines both banks of the river, and I spot guards both in the air and on the ground far out into the distance.

  This place is fortified to the teeth, and I wonder how Zeph and his Hidden rebels hope to combat such a show of force. Cloud-tipped mountains just peek over the horizon, but I can’t make out their color. I also can’t remember if there were other mountain ranges on the map Nadi gave me. I release a resigned huff. Until I can find another map, there’s no way for me to know where I am in relation to where I need to be.

  I look back down at the shining city below me and know that somewhere down there is a detailed drawing of this world, and I just need to find it. I look over at Treno, like I’m worried he can somehow hear my thoughts. He’s still riding the current, pockets of air filling his wings, but his eyes are no longer closed. No, instead, those mismatched irises are watching me intently. He moves closer to me, and I tense slightly.

  “Let’s find somewhere quiet to land. I’d like to get to know you, maybe meet your gryphon if you’re up to it...introduce you to mine?” he offers. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions.”

  I’m so used to Sutton and others referring to their gryphon as if they are one in the same, so it’s strange to me to hear Treno talk about his like it’s a beloved pet he wants to introduce me to. I run my gaze over his windswept long white hair and feel a strange warmth with just a hint of alarm. I have more in common with him than I ever did with any of the Hidden. Well, aside from Ouphe tainted Ami, that is.

  The fact that he’s even offering to answer any questions at all is surprising. Begrudgingly I realize I could learn a lot here if I’m allowed.

  “That sounds weird and all,” I say with a cheeky smile I can’t help, “but I’ll pass on the gryphon playdate, thanks though.”

  I once again remind myself to rein in the snark and not piss off team Lazza, but even if I wanted to see if our gryphons got along, Pigeon is still in a world of hurt right now. I’m not sure how long it will take for her to be up for a meet and greet, assuming that’s a thing here. Judging by the way Treno’s brow furrows at my refusal, I’d guess gryphon introductions are a thing here. I’m reminded of a bumper sticker I saw once that read “If my dog doesn’t like you, I probably won’t either.” Is it like that with the gryphons here?

  “Why?” Treno finally asks, and I smile as I visualize a female telling a male it’s not you, it’s my gryphon.

  “Why what?” I query as I pull my thoughts away from all the things a girl could blame on her gryphon. “Ma’am, you cannot move into a Tim Hortons!”

  “But my Pigeon wants me to!”

  I shake away the thought and focus on what Treno is saying.

  “Why don’t you want our gryphons to meet?” he repeats as he starts to circle me.

  Why do I suddenly feel like I’m being hunted? And why do I suddenly like the idea of that?

  “Pidge, is that you?” I ask, but nothing happens.

  “It’s not you, it’s me,” I tell him, biting back the chuckle that bubbles up my throat. “Even if I wanted to introduce you to my girl”—which I don’t—“she’s not available right now.”

  He looks even more confused now. His dark eyebrows dip down, and his blue and purple gaze moves to my ebony wings behind me and then back to my face. He opens his mouth to say something else, but I cut him off.

  “She’s hurt, okay? When you fuckers shot me out of the sky, you hurt her. I’m not sure how long it will take for her to recover…” or if she will.

  I leave the last part out. I’m already vulnerable enough admitting that I can’t call on Pigeon, no need to paint more of a target on my back.

  Treno’s heterochromia gaze fills with shock and then alarm. He darts in toward me with hummingbird like speed.

  “You’re hurt?” he demands, grabbing me and pulling me to him.

  “Excuse you,” I snap as his grabby hands fuck with all the amazing flying I’m doing.

  He doesn’t seem to care as his big arms manhandle me until I’m somehow cradled against his chest and we’re diving back down toward Kestrel City. It all happens so fucking fast that I don’t even have time to think before the wind is screaming past my face and stealing all of my pissed off objections. He strokes a hand up my back in an all too familiar way, and my wings immediately get sucked back into my back.

  How the fuck do they do that?

  My stomach crawls up into my chest as we fall even faster, and I’m unable to demand that he explain the whole wing spine trick. In a blink, we’re landing on a balcony, and Treno is storming inside, shouting for a healer.

  People scramble to get out of his way, while others dart off to procure everything he’s angrily demanding. Meanwhile, I’m cursing him to the high heavens and trying to push out of this fucker’s iron like hold.

  Fucking strong ass manhandling douche bag.

  He kicks open a set of double doors and carries me into a huge room. I stop struggling, I’m so taken by the strange beauty of it all. The walls are cream stone, but the ceiling is a massive circular crystal-topped skylight. There’s a skinny tree trunk in the far left corner, and it’s free of branches until it hits the ceiling, where leaf-covered appendages and vines fill in the circle of the skylight. The glow of the room is dulled with a hint of green from the leaves, and there’s an oddly peaceful feel to it all.

  Flower-covered vines curtain the far wall, and a large bed covered in what looks like deep purple velvet is pushed up against the vines like they’re serving as a headboard. Rugs of fuzzy looking clover and moss dot the room, and there’s a seating area to the left, with a tree trunk coffee table surrounded by chairs that appear to be made of gnarled tree trunks and stone, all set atop a mossy carpet.

  Treno sets me down on the bed like the delicate flower he clearly thinks I am. I open my mouth to yell at him, but I’m momentarily distracted by the bed cover. Nope, not velvet, it’s something way softer. My rubby cat instincts are immediately activated, and I have to stop myself from moaning and rolling around on the soft fabric like a fucking loon. Treno reaches down and rips my shirt down the middle with his hands.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I shriek at him as I clamp the fabric ends together and spring up off the bed.

  He tries to push me back in place, and I open the floodgates on my rage so it can drown out my fear. I’ve had enough of this shit with Zeph and Ryn. I am not going to meekly stand by while it happens again.

  “If you so much as come near me with a hard-on, I swear to fuck I will bite it off. I don’t need my gryphon to fight you. I have no problem with dying, and you better believe I will take you down with me,” I growl at him.

  He looks at me confused as I scramble away from him.

  “Flower, you are in danger,” he tells me, taking a step closer and then immediately freezing when I panic and almost trip on my feet to back away and maintain distance between us.

  “No shit,” I snap back.

  “Not from me, flower,” he reassures, surprise lighting up his eyes. “Your gryphon is hurt; if it’s bad enough, it will kill you both. I’ve called for a healer. They will be here any second now.”

  I reel, not sure how to process what he just said. We could die?

  “Can you reach your gryphon at all?” he ask
s, worry coating every syllable.

  “No,” I admit on a whisper. “I haven’t been able to since we crashed into the lake.”

  “Thais piss!” Treno curses, and he reaches for me again.

  I flinch, and he immediately pulls back.

  “Flower, I won’t hurt you. You’re safe here. You’ll always be cared for here.”

  The doors slam open, interrupting any response I might have. An elderly looking woman hobbles in, and Treno rounds on her.

  “What took so long?” he barks, and I immediately feel bad for the woman.

  “Hush, Altern, I have not kept you waiting long,” she replies calmly, and I hold my breath, fully expecting Treno to lose his shit on her.

  I’m shocked when he simply releases a deep breath and nods apologetically to the woman.

  Well, shit.

  “All is well, child, now tell me what has you so out of sorts.” She runs her gaze over Treno like she’s looking for an injury.

  “It’s not me, it’s my…”

  He doesn’t finish the sentence but steps to the side to reveal...me. The woman’s eyes widen with surprise. She looks me over, her aubergine gaze settling on the white-knuckled fists holding my top together. Her eyes narrow.

  “What do we have here?” she asks, turning to Treno, her tone laced with venom and judgment.

  “Her gryphon was damaged when we captured her. They haven’t touched for at least three days,” he explains, and the woman’s features grow even harder with the word capture.

  Three days? How the hell did Ryn put me out for three days?

  Anger works its way through my body, and I make a mental note to stab him again the next time I see him. The elderly woman huffs and gestures toward the bed.

  “Come, child, time is of the essence here.”

  I hesitate, looking from her to the bed to Treno.

  “Yes, yes, I will sort that for you,” she assures me, and her dark purple eyes turn from me to the giant male just standing off to my right. “I see no answer, which means you have no rights here, Altern. Leave. I will come to you when I am done.”

  Once again, I expect Treno to tell the frail looking woman to fuck off, but he just huffs and then promptly leaves. I watch the heavy iron doors close behind him, and I’m momentarily taken aback. What kind of sorcery was that, and how the fuck can I learn how to wield it? I look back to the woman, who nods and takes me in again, her gaze somewhat softer.

  “Come, child,” she coaxes again, and I hesitantly move to the bed. “Disrobe, petal. It will only be me that sees you, and I need to check you over thoroughly,” she instructs.

  This time, it’s my turn to huff and then do as she says. The destroyed fabric that once served as a shirt drops limply to the ground. The healer’s breath catches, and I look down to see what’s warranted her shock. Purple bruises mottle the skin of my ribs and abdomen. I have what are clearly finger mark hematomas on my shoulders and upper arms, and my left hip has a yellowish sheen to the skin covering it.

  I’m shocked by the damage that I find. I haven’t had time to check myself out since I woke up with Ryn in the dungeon, but I haven’t been hurting or sore in anyway. There’s been nothing to indicate that I’m clearly fucked up.

  “Your gryphon is blocking it,” the woman explains as though she can read my mind. “The fact that you aren’t hurting is a good sign, but we must work fast. Lie down,” she orders and then moves to the side of the bed.

  I gingerly sit down and scoot to the middle of the huge bed. Now that I’ve seen the state of my body, the drive to be extra careful with it is at the forefront of my mind. I settle into the soft fabric of the bedding and wait for whatever she’s going to do to fix me and Pigeon. Warm, rough hands settle on my stomach, and I flinch.

  “Shhh, petal, just breathe, it will all be over soon.”

  Heat gathers underneath her touch, and then the next thing I know, I’m slamming into a wall of black, and everything is just gone.

  5

  I moan and arch my back to stretch. I press into a large hard body and freeze. A tan meaty arm encircles my torso, and I can feel deep measured breaths tickle the hair on the top of my head. It seems I’m the little spoon in a spoon situation I did not sign up for. My heart picks up speed in my chest, and I look around, trying to figure out where I am and what’s going on. Everything is dark and has this strange fuzzy quality that I’ve only ever noticed in dreams.

  I relax and let out a relieved breath. I’m dreaming. Fuck, it’s always so weird when I’m all aware and logical in my dreams.

  The body behind me stirs, and the well-muscled arm pulls me back tighter against his chest. A deep groan fills the fuzzy dark wall-less room, and my nipples and clit wake right on up. I chuckle silently, totally game for a delicious wet dream. I push my ass back into whoever’s behind me and start an internal chant of “please be Charlie Hunam, please for the love of all wet dreams, be Charlie Hunam.”

  The breaths tickling the top of my head change, and I can tell Charlie is slowly waking up. His tan hand moves from around my waist and slowly skims down my stomach. His fingers dip into the curls at the apex of my thighs, and he groans and grinds his long hard cock against my lower back. I feel a touch of wetness at the small of my back, and I can just picture the precum dripping off of Charlie’s shaft. I lick my lips and hum my approval as he dips his fingers between my now wet lips and strokes my opening softly.

  I widen my thighs and arch back into him, giving him better access, and his other hand reaches around to squeeze my breast while full lips start kissing a trail from my earlobe down my neck.

  “Mmmmm,” he growls in my ear as he dips a long thick finger inside of me.

  I whimper, wanting more.

  He chuckles and pulls his finger out of me to circle my clit. I reach back to stroke the thick cock pressed between my back and his stomach, and he nips at my throat in approval. I don’t know much about Charlie Hunam, but I now know the man makes quick work of a wet pussy. He tweaks my nipples with one hand, and with the other, he’s spread me wide so he can play all he wants between my wet folds. He circles my clit, the revolutions picking up pace with each round. And his scratchy chin nuzzles my ear.

  “Do you want my mouth on you?” he asks, moving his hand faster, the tingles building with each pass against the bundle of nerves. “Do you want my mouth on you next, drinking your sweet nectar, or would you rather I bury myself deep inside of you until you’re screaming and spent?”

  I giggle and then moan as my orgasm sneaks closer. Sweet nectar? Who knew Charlie said shit like that, probably picked it up in some period movie. I open my mouth to tell him to let loose some dirty Sons of Anarchy shit in my ear, but an orgasm rips through me, and I’m lost to the tingling that scatters throughout my entire body.

  “Fuck me,” I order, my head thrown back and my eyes shut as I revel in this perfect release.

  “Spread for me, little sparrow,” he commands as he moves out from behind me and climbs on top of me instead.

  I freeze, and my lids fly open. Honey-dipped eyes glow in front of me, and black shoulder length curly hair falls forward like curtains trying to close off Zeph’s face.

  “What the hell? What are you doing here? Where’s Charlie?” I ask, sitting up and almost head butting him.

  “I’m fucking you,” Zeph answers simply, his eyes narrowing. “Who the rut is Charlie?”

  “My fantasy dream fuck buddy,” I answer, looking around and trying to figure out why my dream self would have conjured Zeph over Charlie.

  What the fuck, brain?

  I mean, I guess it’s better than the faceless dudes I sometimes fuck in my dreams, but I hate real life Zeph, so why him? I tilt my head in thought as I try to put it all together. I got nothing. Maybe I just needed a good hate fuck?

  “You’re impossible even in dreams,” Zeph huffs out, and I chuckle.

  “Of course I am, and you know you like it, so stop complaining and fuck me already,” I snark, lying
back in the bed and spreading my legs wider in invitation.

  “I doubt that tongue would be so sharp with my stem buried down your throat,” he grumbles.

  I laugh at the word stem and shake my head. “You’ll never be lucky enough to find out.”

  I call out for Charlie.

  “What are you doing?” Dream Zeph demands, his golden eyes growing angry.

  “Calling to see if Charlie will show up and fuck me, since you’re clearly not interested.” I gesture down at the stem that’s not currently buried balls deep inside of me, despite my spread thighs and verbal invitation to do so.

  Zeph snarls at me and then finally does what any good wet dream fantasy man is supposed to do, he thrusts deeply inside of me over and over again. I gasp and moan and encourage until he’s pounding into me at a pace I love. He hits everything I need him to, inside and out, and I know the epic orgasm I’m just on the cusp of is going to have me seeing stars.

  Zeph claims my lips, the tempo of our bodies slamming against one another, filling the wall-less room with my new favorite rhythm. Our kiss ends as we pant in order to fill our lungs. He pistons into me, and his lips nip at my ear.

  “My mate,” he declares, and I growl at him.

  “Your nothing,” I snap back, tilting my head to give his lips and teeth better access.

  “My mate,” he repeats on a snarl, his hips punctuating each word.

  I push against his chest until our eyes are locked.

  “Never,” I seethe, reality slinking in to taint the hate fuck filled dream.

  I can get on board with the carnal, but if Dream Zeph thinks he can pull that dominant bullshit in my head, he’s got another thing fucking coming.

  Zeph laughs, but there’s not an ounce of humor in it. “Little sparrow, it’s already done.”