by Rosalie Redd
Finn crouched, preparing for his attack on Hannah.
“No, Hannah!” Seth launched himself toward her.
Finn leapt into the air.
Seth wrapped his arms around her as Hannah’s terrified scream echoed around the room. He shimmered and hardened his skin to stone, preparing for Finn’s certain assault.
Finn’s claws scraped along Seth’s jacket, ripping into the material. With his hardened skin, Finn’s nails didn’t penetrate Seth’s flesh, but Seth couldn’t fight Finn while he protected Hannah. Helplessness seized him, a feeling he detested.
“Let me help.” Hannah’s soft words penetrated Seth’s brain.
“No, darlin’—”
Finn cleared his throat, the phlegmy sound loud in the enclosed space.
Seth’s heart skipped a beat. Finn was preparing to use his poisonous acid. Fae produced a limited supply in a sac at the back of their throat. The corroding substance penetrated even the hardest stone.
Still protecting Hannah with his body, Seth braced himself and tugged his dagger from his waistband.
Finn’s wet and sticky spittle landed on Seth’s back.
Pain flared along the skin at Seth’s shoulder blades and into his wings, stealing the breath from his lungs.
Finn chuckled. Spit glistened on his bottom lip. “Ya can’t protect her much longer. Once the acid burns through ya, there’ll be no one ta stand in my way. Ya’ll be coming with me then, lass.”
“Not if I can help it.” Seth released Hannah, and with a quick twist, thrust the weapon at his old friend.
Finn ducked, but the blade sliced across his cheek. A high-pitched howl burst from his lips. He bolted to his weapon and retrieved his dagger from the floor. The blade glinted in the subdued light.
In the seconds it took Finn to snag his weapon, Seth embraced Hannah and drew her next to the overturned, destroyed couch.
As he plastered her against the wall, face to face, and covered her with his body, he shimmered. His clothing and skin blended in with the white wall and the couch’s brown material.
Hannah’s panting breaths tickled his ear. Thank the goddess, she kept quiet. As long as she didn’t move, she’d remain hidden behind him.
Finn growled. “Feck. Yer hidin’ from me now, are ya? That’s a jolt. Ya never were a coward. Guess ya’re smartin’ more than yer lettin’ on. Good. Very good.”
The pain along Seth’s wings brought white spots before his vision. He breathed deep, forcing his attention to remain on his enemy even as Hannah’s sweet scent raced into his lungs.
Methodical and with purpose, Finn tracked along the fireplace and the far wall, his dagger held out in front of him.
Seth turned his own dagger over in his palm until his fingers gripped the sharp blade. Slowly, he raised his hand, aimed, and flicked.
The blade sailed through the air.
With a soft thunk, like a watermelon split open by a machete, the tip embedded in Finn’s chest.
The muscles in the fae’s shoulders tensed, and his mouth opened on a silent scream.
“Feck. I don’t believe it. Ya actually hit me, didn’t ya?” Eyes wide, he grabbed the hilt and withdrew the bloody blade several inches before the tip emerged. The weapon bounced on the rug then clattered on the parquet floor. Blood spread over his shirt, darkening the material.
Before Seth could finish the job, Finn disappeared in a swirl of broken glass, shredded couch fabric, and bits of stuffing.
An eerie stillness settled over the room.
Hannah’s soft breaths teased the skin on his neck. She trailed her fingernails over his cheek and along his jaw, drawing his attention to her. “You saved me, again. How many more times are you going to do that?”
“As many as it takes.”
Her eyes darted back and forth as she studied him. “You would, wouldn’t you? You really are my guardian angel. If not for you, I’d be…”
“Hannah, darlin—” Pain lanced along his back. He inhaled through gritted teeth.
“Are you all right?” She bit her lip.
The acid burned over his wings, singeing feathers and flesh in equal measure. Agony surged along his oversensitive skin, lighting up his nerves like a bonfire. A shiver rippled over his entire body. His mind fogged.
As if she were his rock grounding him to reality, he tightened his grip on Hannah’s arms.
She grasped his face in her palms. “Look at me.”
He did as she commanded.
Her bottom lip trembled, the plump flesh quivering ever so slightly. The urge to kiss away her fear competed with the need to ensure her safety.
In the end, his duty won out. “Don’t you worry, darlin’. I won’t let Finn take you.”
She furrowed her brow. “You’re injured. Let me look at—”
He pushed away from her. “I’m fine.”
Hannah craned her neck to see over his shoulder.
He kept her at arm’s length, his aching back out of her view.
“Stop, Seth. I smell burnt flesh. You need help.”
A zip of unease coursed through his veins. There was no way he’d let her or anyone else see his wings. “I’ll be fine, really. Just need to sit for a bit.”
His vision wavered, and he placed his palm against the wall for support.
Hannah huffed. “I’m calling Wynne.”
She bolted into the hallway. A moment later, she emerged with her phone in her hand. The ringing on the other end of the line sounded like a death knell.
“Hello?”
Hannah touched the base of her throat. “Sasha?”
“Hannah?” Sasha gasped. “What’s going on? You sound upset.”
Seth’s breath heaved from his lungs. The pain worsened with every heartbeat as the acid bore through his feathers, his flesh, his bones. He didn’t know how long he could stay on his feet. What if he passed out? Not going to happen.
He ground his teeth, and through sheer force of will, locked his knees in place.
Hannah glanced at him, the unease in her eyes morphing to all-out panic. “It’s Seth. Finn and Seth fought. Finn spit something onto Seth’s back and—”
“Oh no, that’s acid!”
“—he’s injured and in a lot of pain. Can Wynne come over?”
A long silence echoed over the line. With his extrasensory hearing, Seth heard Sasha’s gulp.
“That’s not possible.”
Hannah blinked, her fine lashes caressing her cheek. “What do you mean, ‘not possible?’”
“There’s a full moon tonight. Every night of the full moon, Wynne pays penance to Rhiannon for putting Beaumont at risk. She’s locked in stone, just like the gargoyles during the day. I also received notification that one of the gargoyles died in a fight tonight and another is coming in for severe lacerations. Per Rhiannon’s rules, I must stay here. But I have—”
Sasha’s words faded as Hannah met Seth’s gaze.
He forced a smile. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine.”
His leg buckled.
His knee crashed against the floor.
Breath stalled in his lungs.
The phone slid from Hannah’s hand. It skittered across the floor and under the remnants of the couch.
She rushed to his side. “Seth. Tell me what to do—”
“Need a shower…” Seth forced the words from his lips. Even on his knees, he had the presence of mind to keep his shoulders back so Hannah didn’t see his wings. He didn’t want to admit how bad the injury hurt, but if he didn’t repair the damage and soon, the wound might never heal.
“Hannah! Hannah! Talk to me. I have an idea how to help him.”
Even without his extrasensory hearing, he would’ve heard Sasha’s loud words. Apparently, so did Hannah. She glanced at the couch, pushed off the floor, and raced to retrieve her phone.
Hannah reached between a crack in the frame and withdrew the device, her fingers gripped tight around the case. “Tell me.”
“Wynne gave you a
cream. It’s similar to the salve we give the gargoyles. Rub some on the injury. The balm should relieve the pain and speed the healing process.”
Hannah’s shoulders visibly relaxed, but the hand holding the phone shook. “Thank you, Sasha.”
“Good luck. Call me if you need anything else.”
Hannah shoved the phone in her pocket and raced to Seth’s side. A caring Seth hadn’t seen in well over a hundred years reflected in the depths of those emerald green eyes. His chest tightened, but not from pain.
“Seth,” she placed her arm under his shoulder then glanced around. Her brows furrowed, putting a sadness in her features he didn’t like. “Come with me. There’s a chair in the next room. Besides, it’s cleaner in there. After all this destruction, I don’t trust you won’t get an infection.”
Struggling with consciousness, he didn’t have the strength to argue with her. Between the two of them, his arm draped over her shoulders, they trudged down the hallway and into the adjacent room.
Various landscapes and portraits, mostly sketches, lined the walls. The illustrations calmed him in a way he didn’t fully understand.
Hannah helped him into a chair next to an easel.
Hot, fevered pain rippled down his spine. White spots in his vision turned to blizzard-like conditions, eating away at his consciousness. He placed his head between his knees and breathed deep.
Hannah’s inhale echoed loud in the room. “Oh my god. You have feathers. Are those…wings?”
Darkness threatened to take him down, and he almost wished it would. After over a hundred years of hiding his wings, Hannah had discovered his secret.
CHAPTER 13
Hannah gaped at Seth. He sat hunched over in the chair in her art room, white feathers protruding through the large gashes in his leather jacket.
She held her breath. “I didn’t know you had wings.”
He straightened his back, placed his elbows on his thighs, and peered at her. Tightness formed lines around his eyes, and vulnerability and pain embedded within his blue depths. “No one knows, except you, now.”
No one else knew? Hannah’s heart picked up speed, and determination to help him pushed her into action. “Let’s get this jacket off so I can look at your injuries.”
She tugged at Seth’s collar and eased the soft leather over his shoulders and down his arms. A grimace pursed his lips, but he didn’t cry out. Respect for him swelled inside. He was her warrior, her guardian angel, and he’d risked his life for her.
Visible through several long slashes in his ripped T-shirt, the soft down of his feathers protruded from his damaged skin. She guided the shredded top over his head.
White as fresh snow, bits of his feathers jutted from beneath his skin, the tips shimmering as if they’d been dipped in shiny, silver metallic nail polish. Their beauty stole her breath away. The T-shirt slipped from her fingers and landed next to the jacket with a soft plop.
A strained moan eased from Seth’s lips. The muscles in his back clenched, and his skin rippled as if bones adjusted and moved beneath the surface. She never would’ve known the hidden wings existed if he hadn’t received his injury.
Like a tide receding from the shore, his skin drew away and two beautiful white wings unfurled. They grew with each beat of her heart until they extended almost to the ceiling.
Blood oozed from a nasty gash between his wings at the center of his shoulder blades. Even as she examined the injury the wound grew, heading to his lower back and eating more of his flesh with every breath. Along his wings, visible holes among the feathers showed more damage from the fae’s horrific acid.
Anger like she’d never experienced swelled deep in Hannah’s soul. He’d received his injuries protecting her.
She placed her hand on his arm. “I’ll get the salve. Be right back.”
A bead of sweat rolled over his brow and dripped onto the floor. He gave her a quick nod.
Fear for his well-being chased after her as she bolted to retrieve Wynne’s lotion. She took the stairs two at a time and burst into the bathroom. The small pouch rested on the counter. She grasped the sack in her palm and fled back down the stairs.
A wave of exhaustion nearly took her down, but she pushed through the sluggishness. Seth needed her.
She reached him and tried to untie the cord, but her shaky fingers fumbled over the knot. Adrenaline, fueled by her frustration, zipped along her nerves.
Seth placed his palm over her hand and gripped the pouch in their combined grasp.
Hannah peered at him.
He smiled, and the look of reverence in his eyes just about brought her to her knees. “It’s all right, Hannah. I’ll do it.”
She swallowed and shook her head. “I want to do this for you. Please, let me.” Would he trust her? She held her breath and waited.
Seth met her gaze, nodded, and then squeezed her hand before he let her go. “Thank you, darlin’, just don’t touch the feathers.”
His familiar term of endearment rumbled in the space between them and settled over her with an easy warmth. Unexpected tears blurred her vision. She blinked them away before one escaped and slipped over her lashes.
With a new determination urging her on, she exhaled a quick breath, focused on the knot, and untied the strands.
A soft hiss of magic eased from the pouch. Hannah set the string on the table next to her easel. Wisps of blue smoke unfurled from the bag and drifted toward Seth’s back.
Her breath stalled. “How do I…”
“Place some on your fingertips and spread the solution over the wound. Don’t worry, the acid won’t burn your skin through the salve.”
She wiped the back of her hand across her damp forehead then dipped two fingers into the cream. With tentative, gentle care, she reached between Seth’s outstretched wings and rubbed the salve onto the wound.
He hissed, and the muscles in his back tensed.
Hannah inhaled. “Did I hurt you?”
“Nope. You’re doing great, darlin’.” Seth’s encouraging words slipped through her, giving her the strength to continue.
As she rubbed the salve over the wound, the smoke the cream created changed to green then yellow before turning to an off shade of white. Between Seth’s shoulder blades, the skin on his back knit together, the wound closing with each brush of her fingertips.
The tension in Seth’s muscles eased, his shoulders relaxing under her tender strokes. When the last of the wound disappeared, Hannah’s attention turned to the holes in several of Seth’s feathers. Despite the injuries, the soft, beautiful down of his wings mesmerized her. Unable to resist, she stroked her fingers along the velvety plumes and—
Seth rose from his seat and grasped her arms, his wings folding slightly. With a speed she couldn’t track, he pinned her against the wall. The pictures rattled from the impact. His pupils dilated, and he raked his gaze over her with feral, lustful intensity.
“I told you not to touch the feathers.” His husky voice rumbled from his chest into hers.
She blinked, and tried to piece together what had just happened. “I don’t understand. Why not?”
He trailed his fingers along her jaw until he cradled her head in his palm. With his other hand, he gripped her hip and tugged her close against him. “You have no idea what your touch does to me.”
“But, your wings. They’re injured, too.” She licked her lips.
He glanced over his shoulder at them and then returned his attention to her. “My feathers are very sensitive. In an arousing sort of way.”
Hannah inhaled. As her lungs expanded, her breasts pressed into Seth’s chest. He was a wall of pure, masculine strength, and her body reacted on its own, her nipples peaking beneath her bra.
She bit her lip. “How aroused would you become if I touched them some more?”
A low, feral growl eased from him, and a greenish hue ringed his eyes. “You play with fire, Hannah.”
Seth brought his lips to hers in a bruising kiss. Passion
ignited within her, sending a rush of endorphins through her blood at lightning speed. He slid his hand along her hip, over her bottom, and squeezed.
Gasping, she opened to him, and he deepened the kiss, exploring her with his tongue. She slid her fingers through his hair and poured the rush of emotions swirling through her into her kiss.
He trailed his fingers up her hip and along her ribs, dangerously close to her breast. She ached for him to touch her there, too, but instead, he drew away and placed his forehead against hers. Their panting breaths echoed in the space between them.
He pushed away from the wall and scowled at his hands. Torment and regret crossed his features. “Dammit, Hannah. A man like me has no business putting his hands on you.”
As he whipped around to turn his back on her, the tip of one wing caught the cloth over the easel. The material slid to the ground and pooled at Seth’s feet. His gaze tracked to the sheet then rose to the sketch.
He glanced at her, and a darkness she hadn’t seen before from him flared in his blue eyes. “What is this?”
Seth focused on Hannah, his mind reeling. How had she known about his wings? He’d never shared his special gift with anyone. There’s no way she could’ve known. Yet, the truth was so boldly laid out on that picture.
Hannah shifted her gaze between him and the sketch. Her mouth opened, closed, opened again. “I drew a picture of you.”
A strange urge to laugh bubbled up from deep inside, but he kept it in check. Hannah should fear him, this gargoyle with a questionable soul, the one who murdered for a living.
Instead, the trust and innocence he’d sensed from the first moment they’d met remained on full display in her response.
He traced his finger over the cord at his wrist and tried to ignore the stinging pain along his wings. “Yes, it’s a picture of me. A fine one at that. You have great talen…”
He peered at his image on the canvas. In the depths of his eyes, he noted something he hadn’t seen since his human days—happiness. A groundswell of emotions roared through him. Confusion, desire, want, and need, swirled to such intensity, he crashed to one knee.
