I do my best to keep my thoughts and reactions to his close proximity and manhandlin’ to myself. Otherwise, I’m sure he’ll just say I’m havin’ an itch again, and next thing I know, I’ll wake up droolin’ on the pillow all alone and embarrassed for a second time. No, thank you.
As the remnants of my shirt flutter to the floor, Flint reaches down and pops open the button of my shorts with sure, steady hands. My breath hitches in my throat, and I instinctively grab his forearms, my fingers diggin’ into his hard form.
He pauses, like he’s startin’ to come out of his haze and just now realized how intimate this is. His dark eyes flick up to me as he slowly pulls down the zipper. I don’t breathe as he drags it down. I can feel the metal teeth part as he drops his hand lower and lower, and it sends all kinds of needy signals to all the places I want him to touch.
I swallow a moan and curse my hardenin’ nipples as he pushes my shorts down my hips and takes my underwear with them as he goes. I step out of them when they land on the floor, and then Flint moves to unhook my bra.
If Flint notices my diamond hard nipples and barely muffled whimper, he doesn’t let on. Just as soon as I’m naked, he clasps my wrist and pulls me into the now steamy shower. Oddly, he keeps his jeans on as we step under the warm, steadily flowin’ stream of water, and I’m not sure what to think about that.
The water feels good, and I can’t bite back the moan fast enough as it hits my wings and body, the temperature stealin’ away my tension.
Damn, these feathered things are sensitive.
My wings flex a little as though they’re agreein’ with that thought, and then suddenly, Flint’s hands come up to feel one of them. I gasp at the sensation that strikes through me at his touch. I feel like he’s squeezin’ my heavy breasts, clit, and ass cheeks all at the same time, but he’s nowhere near any of those danger zones. No, instead, he’s slowly extendin’ my wing and runnin’ a slow, careful hand over the skin of my back as he checks for glass.
Plink.
The familiar sound reaches my ears, and I spot a piece of glass bounce to the far corner of the shower.
“We have to stop meetin’ like this,” I joke in an effort to lighten the mood.
Flint snorts, but I can tell it’s gonna take more than one joke to pull him the rest of the way out of his dark thoughts.
He lifts my wing higher, and I try not to acknowledge what it’s doin’ to me. Who knew wings could be an erogenous zone? I feel like maybe Delta should’ve warned me or somethin’. Then again, I doubt either of us gave much thought to whether I’d be sportin’ a pair so soon. I hadn’t even processed the fact that I could have wings of my own.
She didn’t seem to be too thrilled about her set, but I’m excited. Well, aside from the fact that they’re purple. Green would’ve been more my style, but wings are wings. Once everythin’ calms down, flyin’ lessons are the first thing on my agenda.
Flint tosses more glass to the corner, and I try not to think about the sting at my back as he goes, so I keep my mind occupied by wonderin’ about what other abilities might come to me. Will I instinctually take to the wings like I did with the scythe? Delta indicated that learnin’ wards and things was difficult, so I’m not sure what to expect.
My thoughts drift to her and the talk we had this afternoon. I have a sister. It’s weird to say that, and yet at the same time, it feels oddly natural. Before those demons showed up, everythin’ was goin’ well between us. She was easy to talk to, and I felt connected to her, which I suppose isn’t too strange because we’re sisters, so maybe it’s in our blood to be linked. Which makes sense, since it seemed to be her blood that broke the rest of my wards and turned me into a purple demon bird. Maybe it’s a twin bond thing.
No, not twins. Triplets, my mind corrects.
Sable.
I can’t help but wonder if she’s okay. Did she find a nice family after the ones Nefta left her with gave her up? Worry trickles through me at that thought, and I fear that the answer to that question might be bleak. What kind of people give up a three-year-old? What’s the likelihood that she would’ve found a warm and lovin’ home after that? I got lucky, but what if she didn’t?
I shove my pessimism away. I found good parents, so it’s not impossible. There’s still hope.
Seemingly satisfied, Flint lowers my wing and moves on to the other. I can’t hide the shiver that runs through me as his hands work the purple appendage, checkin’ for glass through the feathers. I bite my lip, wonderin’ what he thinks about them. His hands move gently as he checks beneath the feathers, and even though he’s touchin’ me to ensure he gets every shard out, I feel like he’s workin’ my body into a frenzy instead.
I hear him take long, deep, measured breaths like he’s tryin’ to calm himself, and I search through my troubled mind for a topic we can discuss that will distract us both.
“So, mate, huh?” I ask and then instantly want to facepalm.
Yeah, I’m infinitely curious about the term he applied to me not just once but twice. Although right now, when he’s
