Chapter 11
Eleven
Ayna
Silky black hair tickles my neck as Myron kisses the sensitive skin beneath my ear, sensual lips nipping, teasing until a trail of fire runs straight to my core. A moan escapes me, my fingers digging into the muscles of his back, nails scratching, claiming. Myron’s responding groan makes my body arch against his. My human body.
When I changed back, I can’t remember, and does it really matter when he’s worshipping every last inch of my human skin, hands roaming along my chest, circling my breasts, stroking my stomach, gliding lower until they coast my hips?
“I’ve missed you, Ayna,” he growls against my collarbone as he chases the fire all the way down to the heat between my legs, and when his tongue brushes up my center, I scream.
I scream so fucking loud I might have woken up half the palace, but nothing stirs in the darkness surrounding us.
Myron’s answering chuckle is a ghost of a touch as he waits until I settle back into the soft sheets. “If that’s your response to one touch, I want to know what you sound like when I have you teetering the line between bliss and desperation while I keep you on the edge of your release.”
He’s talking entirely too much, but every word—every breath —brings me closer to said line until my thighs are shaking and my hands are tangling with his hair, practically begging him to bestow upon me that magic touch of his tongue.
And when he does—Guardians, when he does, I forget I’m alive, or that I was wondering a moment ago how I returned into my human form, how Myron wasn’t surprised to find me naked in my human skin in his bed half an hour ago. I forget my name and where I am and what I might have been. The only thing I don’t forget is Myron’s name as I scream it when he closes his lips over that sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of my thighs and I writhe beneath him, splintering into a million pieces.
Myron chuckles, the sound running through me like a dark summons melting my core so deeply all I can think of is that I need him to fill me or I’ll burst into tears for lack of words. Myron knows it, too, because he rises above me, kneeling between my legs and stripping out of his black pants. His shirt, I freed him of earlier, my hands eager to touch his warm skin.
“Please,” I moan as he hovers there, an inch from my entrance. “Please, Myron.”
Something snaps in his all-black eyes as he sheaths himself inside me, shadows spilling from his hands where he grabs my hips to lift them for a deeper angle. I nod at him, encouragement enough for him to thrust into me at a relentless pace that has me seeing the silver light of release beckoning on the horizon all over again. Guardians, I missed this. I missed the perfect fit of him when he slides in, the firm, yet gentle grip of his hands, the darkness enveloping him as he brings us closer to the edge with each thrust.
“Ayna,” he growls as I start rolling my hips in time with his, a warning that he won’t be able to hold back if I keep it up.
I don’t care. My hands are reaching for his face, pulling his mouth to mine. His tongue meets mine in a dance of devastation and delight as we both steer for a cliff I know there’s no coming back from.
“Not yet, Ayna,” he whispers as if he knows something I don’t. “Not yet.”
But I’m so close. And I want him to lose that final bit of control keeping him from letting go, from leaping into the unknown beyond.
It’s too late to stop myself as I rush into the oblivion of ecstasy, and Myron’s groan reverberates through me like an afterthought of my own pleasure as he follows suit, finishing with one final, mighty thrust.
“Ayna,” he whispers my name into the darkness now fully enveloping us, and his touch becomes a memory, my exhausted limbs heavy and distant, like this isn’t my body and I’m not really here.
“Myron?” My voice is swallowed up by the cold and empty space surrounding me, and there is no answer.
No answer when I scream his name into the void—and my scream becomes a caw.
When I open my eyes, I’m back in my bird form, panting tiny breaths as the dream puffs into smoke, and I’m not certain if it was a reprieve from the torture this form has become or a nightmare meant to be a torment by reminding me of what I lost.
“Are you eating this?” Kaira shoves my cookie plate toward me on the low table by the silver brocade sofa. “Not that you have to. I could get you meat pie instead. I’m sure the cook doesn’t have a problem delivering some of those tasty, savory…”
“Shut it, Kaira. I’m trying to think.” Clio lounges in an armchair, her copper hair a wild waterfall over her shoulder and in entirely too stark contrast with her vibrant pink shirt.
“I guess she picked the wrong spot for thinking,” I note, relying on Kaira to supply my comment to the Fairy Princess.
Kaira smirks at me as she drawls, “Ayna says you shouldn’t even try. It might hurt your pretty head.”
With my beak, I pick up a crumb of cookie and hurl it at my sister while cursing at her in my head.
Clio gives me a bored look. “You probably said the exact opposite and Kaira is being a pain in the ass,” she suggests, and I dip my beak so low I nearly get stuck in the cookie before me.
“I want meat pies. Now.” I don’t need to add that my bad mood isn’t exclusively because of what happened in the forest but because last night’s dream still clings to me like a sheen of the desperation Myron quoted. Even when he came to save me from Gus and the twins… Saving is all he can do. There is no version of this where I can be close to him like in that dream.
I’m still struggling to understand what exactly happened when my instincts took over in the forest, but from what Myron said when my tossing woke him after l couldn’t fall asleep with that dream still clinging to my thoughts, it must have been my bird nature taking over, shoving back all human remains. Apparently, the rush of adrenaline when Gus captured me combined with the fear for my life brought out the real crow in me, and had it not been for the connection through the mating bond, however thin it might be, I might have lost myself for good. Trust Myron to swoop in and save my ass while simultaneously messing with all sorts of emotions that can only be of human origin. Surprising heat rushes my neck, and I’m for once grateful for my feather coat.
Kaira only chuckles darkly but doesn’t comment as she unfolds herself from the sofa and makes for the door. “Anything for you, Princess?” She waves a hand at Clio, who shakes her head.
“Unless it’s about six and a half feet tall, extraordinarily built, and has hair almost as pretty as mine, no thanks.”
I cackle a half-hearted laugh.
In the past four days since Myron and Silas rescued me in the woods north of Aceleau, Clio, and Kaira have been taking turns keeping me company—or keeping an eye on me so I don’t disappear again.
After Myron personally delivered me to Recienne’s healers to double check every last injury had been healed, and a good day of rest, during which he hadn’t left my side, he’s been gloriously absent. He doesn’t tell me where he goes, but I can imagine it’s down to the chambers where Recienne holds the Flame spy captive. I don’t inquire about the smell of blood he carries with him when he returns at night. Both Kaira and Tori offered their translation services to make it possible for me to communicate with my mate, and I agreed to inform Myron about every last bit of what happened when I took off that night.
I’m not sure what I expected from him, but certainly not the cold, composed face as he listened to what Shaelak had said to me—a face I’ve come to recognize as the mask of the Crow King when he ponders laying waste to the world. It’s those little moments when I can sense him burning beneath the surface. Burning for the wrong reason. Not with passion but with ire—ire on my behalf.
Naturally, everyone in our little group knows all about it now. Relevant facts , Tori called it. Every last detail could help us when it comes to winning this war. If the gods are still meddling, then perhaps we could use it to our advantage. Ever the calculated, planning general, he had analyzed what happened from all angles.
Myron hasn’t visited Shaelak’s temple since the incident in the forest, though, so I don’t wander about the city during the nights either. Whether it is because he doesn’t dare leave me alone or because he’s given up on whatever he was doing there, I don’t know. I blame it on his wind and forest scent that my brain is inclined to play tricks on me during sleep, making me believe I’ve shifted back only so reality can hit me in my beaked face with full force when I wake.
Clio stretches her arms above her head like a cat. “How are you feeling?” She doesn’t wait for me to respond. “Myron must be beyond relieved you’re safe and sound once more. Not that you can’t take care of yourself, but you fell into the hands of Erina’s spies without magic to save you.”
And without a sword or even hands to hold such an item , I shout at her in my head.
“It’s a miracle Myron found you. Did he use your mating bond to locate you? Did he tug on it?” Her jade eyes linger on that spot over my left wing where, in my human form, the mate mark was once inked. “Or was it coincidence?”
I don’t know. I wish I had an answer. Tugging on the frail remains of our bond hasn’t worked in a long time. If Myron did somehow use it, that means our connection is stronger than it feels.
Warmth spreads in my chest at the thought of how Myron’s lips twitched into a half smile the last time he caught me watching him, how his hand absently twitched toward me, a finger gliding over the top of my head in a gentle display of affection.
I miss him. Even now that I know he can’t be more than a few staircases away, my heart is aching.
“I will have to ask him myself,” Clio muses. Her black leather pants squeak as she crosses one leg over the other, letting them dangle over the rolled arm of the chair. “Or I’ll ask Tori to translate when he’s back from?—”
She cuts herself off.
From what?
Clio shakes her head. “Recienne has dispatched more patrols to comb not only the south but all strategic locations in Askarea systematically for spies. Not that there’s a chance of truly catching every danger, but it’s better than before. If there are more enemy forces closing in on Aceleau, he’ll find them.”
Because he won’t let anyone near the palace and risk Erina knowing the Fairy Queen is pregnant. When Tori brought in Gus for questioning, the male had been blindfolded, and a layer of solid magic had enclosed him, shielding all external sounds. I haven’t heard a word of his whereabouts since.
“Never mind. Here comes food.” Clio unfolds herself from her chair as Kaira returns with a tray of meat pies and reaches for the one sitting on top of a meat pie pyramid. How she managed to get them so quickly is beyond me.
“Cook had them ready,” Kaira chimes. “Apparently, Myron dropped by this morning and asked to have a snack prepared for you for the afternoon.” Setting the tray down right in front of me on the table, she surveys the amount of food. “Or for all of us, I guess.” She ceremoniously swipes a pie off the plate and takes a generous bite, chewing and moaning as she plops back onto the sofa.
Even now, he thinks of me first, making sure I am taken care of despite my inability to turn back into the woman who once held him through the night. I want to cry so badly my eyes hurt.
Perhaps there is something I can do. Something of use I can contribute to this war that isn’t dying. I could spy. Soar across the realm and spot enemy troops. Or I could?—
Kaira throws me a sharp glance. “What’s our plan for the afternoon?” she prompts with her mouth still half full.
I am not certain it’s a good idea, but I think it at Kaira anyway. “I’d like to go to Shaelak’s temple.”
For a moment, Kaira stops chewing. “Are you sure? Myron will probably skin us alive if we let you out of the palace.” From the undercurrent of her words, it’s clear she doesn’t mean just the temple but my earlier idea as well.
Ignoring Clio’s confused expression, I roll on. “It’s not like I’ll be alone if the two of you join me. Maybe the Brother Guardian will be more inclined to talk to me when I make an effort to visit his sacred location.”
“I’m not sure. Maybe I should find Myron. I’m sure he’d want to go with you.”
Clio sets down her meat pie. “It would be nice to be included in the conversation, you know. It’s bad enough my mate does this all the time with my brother. I don’t need my friends to do the same.”
My heart warms as she calls both of us friends , and Kaira positively beams. “She wants to visit the temple.”
A knowing look crosses Clio’s features. “Definitely get Myron. The dark realms behind Eroth’s Veil will look like a tea party compared to what he’ll do to us if we don’t tell him you’re leaving the palace.”
“Why does it feel like I’m a prisoner and you’re just keeping me company to make sure I don’t get antsy?”
Kaira relays my thoughts to Clio, who frowns. “Just saying. I don’t want to get onto the Crow King’s bad side.”
And she doesn’t even know about the changes in him—the dark power and black veins around his eyes. The all-black spreading from his irises.
Perhaps they are right. Perhaps I should be taking one of Shaelak’s creatures with me when visiting the god’s temple.
“Can I ask you a favor, Kaira?”
My sister lifts her head, waiting for me to continue.
“Do you remember when you pulled thoughts from Herinor and projected them into all our minds?” I still vividly remember the day when Myron was ready to kill the male and Kaira stepped in to save him.
A shudder rakes through my sister as her mind seems to drift back to that moment, and she nods.
“Could you do the same with me? Could you project my thoughts into someone else’s mind?”
She tilts her head, considering, and utterly ignores Clio whose gaze is bouncing between Kaira and me in a silent prompt to include her in the conversation.
“I can try.” Without warning, she grabs for me, picking me off the table so fast I loose an uncrowish squeak, and sets me on her lap, palms lying flat against the sides of my body. “Hold still.”
So I do.
“Guardians, what’s happening now? Are you going to braid each other’s hair next?” Clio asks, exasperation brimming in every word.
“You can’t braid feathers,” I retort, and Clio’s eyes go wide.
“Ayna?”
“Oh my gods, it’s working.” My heart launches into my throat as I glance up at Kaira, who’s grinning broadly.
“I can hear you.” Clio sounds like she can’t believe it.
I don’t waste time on becoming emotional when my mind is spinning with what this means for Myron and me. I could talk to him—if I dared. Really talk to him.
“I need to get to Shaelak’s temple, and I need to get there today. If you are truly my friend, you won’t tell Myron a word about it.” Clio starts to object, but I cut her off before a sound leaves her mouth. “But you can tell Royad I need him.”
Circling above the roofs, I follow Kaira and Royad, who make their way on foot through the haze creeping into the streets this late in the afternoon. Their cloaks billow on the crisp breeze like black banners, but as fairies rush from door to door, no one pays them any heed, everyone too occupied with their own errands. I haven’t visited this part of Aceleau during the day, but it is only marginally less dark than on a moonlit night as we turn into the narrow alley leading up to the temple.
I’m still in shock that I spoke with Clio and she actually heard me, not Kaira’s translation. It was nearly impossible to convince the Fairy Princess to stay behind when Kaira, Royad, and I set out to the temple, but my argument is that someone needs to tell Myron when he asks for my whereabouts, and I’d rather it’s the Fairy Princess he won’t dare touch than one of the servants he might annihilate in a surge of panic.
Tucking in my wings, I descend from the height of the roofs, landing on Royad’s forearm, which he holds out for me, a grim smile gracing his scarred face. Kaira hasn’t linked us the way she did with Clio, but it’s not necessary yet. It was more important to actually get here first.
“Looks like no one really prays to the God of Darkness anymore,” the Crow male notes as he pulls open the age-worn oak door with a creak, revealing a small, high antechamber with four gray stone pillars carrying a decaying wooden ceiling.
Kaira follows us inside the building, her hand on her dagger out of reflex while Royad lifts his palm to summon a flicker of silver power.
“It’s a temple,” I groan into Kaira’s mind. “No one will attack us here.”
“Except for the Brother Guardian himself,” she retorts, pointing at the space beyond the antechamber where the marble statue of a tall male with two swords strapped across his back stands guard over a simple stone altar.
My wingbeats echo from the high walls as I flutter in a circle, assessing the carvings on the seam beneath the ceiling, the faded paintings of the night sky along the dome peaking above the altar.
It seems Myron was the only one using this temple in a long time, the single line of his bootprints along the dusty floor proof he was here, and on the altar?—
Royad’s nostrils flare at the same moment I pick up the scent, and I land on the cracked stone, inspecting the specks of blood that have dried in the symbols etched into the rock.
“Get off the altar,” Royad warns, but I’m too busy not panicking at the scent and the hundreds of possible scenarios it comes with.
“If anyone hurt him, I’ll hunt them down and eat their eyes—slowly.” I mean it. Kaira knows it, too, because all she says to me in her mind is, “I’ll hold the bastard down while you feed on them.”
Between Royad and Kaira, I have the two most loyal people in the Crow Court at my side. The best ones to aid me when the time comes.
“Please ask Royad what happened here.”
Kaira steps up to the altar, holding out a hand for me to land on, but doesn’t push when I prefer to follow the trail of Myron’s blood to the center of the spiral of symbols I can’t decipher.
“Ayna wants to know what, by Eroth, Myron was doing here,” she paraphrases, but I’m not mad because it puts a guilty look on Royad’s face that promises he’ll spill every detail.