52 Birdie #2
His hands are everywhere, pulling me in closer.
He’s a sweaty mess, his natural autumnal scent spiked with the musk of perspiration.
Was he running this whole freaking time?
He’s just as ravenous as I am, his breath hot on my throat as he sucks my fevered skin hard enough to leave a mark.
“Fuck, I thought I’d lost you.” He scrapes over the mark with his teeth, soothing it with a swipe of his tongue.
I’m left clinging to him, hands fisted in his sweaty shirt. “I’m fine,” I assure him. “Really—”
“Everything was perfectly under control,” the wraith says from just behind me.
Remembering the anger I was feeling moments before, I shove against Jasper, untangling myself from his hold.
He doesn’t let me get far. His hands continue to clutch hard to my upper arms. “What the fuck?” I cry.
“You really thought it was okay not to tell me that the mugger from the alley was actually a soul-sucking wraith?”
Still catching his breath too, his eyes are narrowed to angry slits as his gaze darts between us. “What happened? What the hell did he do?”
“He chased me through the woods, tackled me, and tried to kill me!”
Dáinn dares to step in behind me, one hand resting heavy on my shoulder. “Those are the facts, but she presented them very poorly.”
I round on him, slapping his hand away. “You told me you couldn’t have stopped yourself after you were already trying to eat me! If I didn’t have my . . . whatever the heck we call my little magic trick, I would be dead right now.”
“Because you ran,” Jasper growls. “I told you not to fucking run.”
“You also told me you would be straight with me! Why do you think I’m so pissed right now? I begged you to tell me the truth about what I am—”
“And I did,” he shouts over me. “You asked me how you’re able to stop him, and I said I didn’t know. I still don’t. Neither of us do. Birdie, it’s the truth—”
“Yes, but what you didn’t tell me is that Dáinn was in the room while I asked the freaking question! And—ohmygod—” Heart racing, I spin around to face the wraith. “Were you there for that too?”
Dáinn’s eyes are wide as they dart between us. “You’ll have to be more specific . . .”
I cross my arms, staring him down. “I’m asking if you were hiding in the kitchen yesterday when Jasper and I—when we—”
God, I can’t even finish the sentence!
Look, I’m not against having an audience when it comes to sex, but I typically like to know they’ll be watching beforehand.
Intimacy on the other hand? I’d rather die than admit to feeling vulnerable, let alone have people watch me be vulnerable from the shadows.
And that moment with Jasper in the kitchen was one of the most intimate experiences of my life.
He tore down my walls, stole all my shields, and forced me to feel with him.
If someone else was watching that? If Jasper knew and said nothing?
Ugh, I feel sick.
Dáinn quickly catches on. His eyes go even wider as he frantically waves his hands. “Birdie, no. I swear, I only found out about your amorous encounter after the fact.”
“Amorous encounter?” I repeat.
“Yes,” he says with a fervent nod. Then he’s glancing between us again. “You’re talking about the fucking, right? First with his fingers, then his mouth—”
“Enough,” says Jasper. “Dáinn, we don’t need a summary.”
I round on the witch. “You told him about it?”
He sighs. “Birdie . . .”
“Don’t you sigh at me, Jasper Prescott. That moment was private and—” Oh god, Birdie, really?
Were you about to say special? I officially hate myself.
Sinking back into defensive rage, I turn my fury on the witch.
“Just—what the hell is your problem, huh? You can’t tell me I’m being haunted by a wraith, but you can tell the wraith you tongue-fucked my cunt? ”
“He didn’t tell me!” Grabbing my shoulder, Dáinn spins me around. “Birdie, he didn’t have to tell me anything. I scented the truth on him the moment I returned to his side. You were all over him, soaked into his skin. Your scent lingers there still. You marked him, claimed him for your own.”
I fight a grimace. “You’re saying you can smell me on him? What, like he’s wearing a limited-edition ‘Birdie’-scented perfume?”
“Yes.”
My stomach twists at the thought of my private business now being sniffable. I glance to Jasper, my anger deflating. “I’m sorry, I had no idea. I didn’t mean to . . . mark you. Or—”
A muscle twitches in Jasper’s jaw as the wraith says, “Don’t.”
“What?”
“Don’t diminish it,” Dáinn warns. “Don’t cheapen what you both shared. Our witch is proud of how well he cared for you. Wearing your scent is a privilege, Birdie. More still, it shows how he honors your desire for independence.”
“What do you mean?”
Jasper, of course, says nothing. The wraith fills in the blanks. “You do not wear his scent.”
“That’s enough, Dáinn,” the witch says at last.
Oh, I see. The sex was one-sided. I marked him, but Jasper didn’t mark me. In my defense, we were interrupted by Hortie and the cat. I was more than willing to keep going—
Wait. Does Jasper think I wanted to stop? Does he think I’ll just selfishly take with no thought of giving?
“Gods, how can you stand it?”
I look to the wraith. “What?”
Black shadows swirl in the whiskey pools of his eyes as his voice lowers.
“I don’t have to physically eat your souls or even feast on your auras to see that you burn for each other.
This yearning could set the whole island ablaze.
Why do you both fight it? What does it gain you? Do you like the suffering?”
I shiver at his words. “It’s not that simple—”
Grabbing me, he turns me roughly around, pulling me in tight against his chest. “Look at him, Birdie.” His other arm bands around my waist, keeping me pinned. “Look at our witch.”
His grip is cool iron. Immovable. I have no choice but to look at Jasper.
He stands just out of reach, watching us.
He takes in every stroke of Dáinn’s hands, the press of his hips against mine, the flex of his fingers around my jaw.
What is he thinking? If he wanted this to stop, I imagine he’d be putting up more of a fight to wrench me away from Dáinn. Instead, he just watches.
I think he’s waiting, gauging my reaction. Because I’m the wild card here, not him. He knows who he is, and he knows what he wants. He knew Dáinn was watching us last night, and that didn’t stop him from being vulnerable with me, from pulling me in close and offering me comfort.
Jasper’s not afraid of an audience either.
The thought unlocks something in my mind. I stifle a laugh as I picture my conscience flitting free of the bars of her cage. The wraith is right. Why am I fighting this? Because Jasper is my boss and things could get complicated? Because he’s nearly twice my age? Because it wouldn’t be proper?
Fuck proper. It doesn’t exist anymore. Not on this island of witches and wraiths and magical wards. And fuck age gaps. Dáinn is literally immortal. Who cares that Jasper was graduating from high school when I was born? And this is already so far beyond complicated.
So, what’s my excuse? Why am I still holding back?
Dáinn leans in, his breath cool against my ear.
“This need between you is a wild thing. It has horns, and teeth, and creeping tendrils. It will take hold if you let it. Let my witch burrow into your heart, and you will never root him out.” Squeezing tight to my jaw, he turns me to look at him.
“But you want that, don’t you? It’s the tender little secret you hold deep. ”
I gasp, trying to pull away. This wraith reads me too well. I feel stripped bare.
“Poor little bird,” he taunts. “You’ve been alone all your life. You just want to feel rooted to something for once. You want to matter to someone. You want to be unshakable and elemental, godsdamn irreplaceable.”
My core heats at his words. “Dáinn—”
“That’s my name,” he snarls. “You own a piece of it now, a piece of me. What will you do with it, Birdie Rhodes? Will you keep clinging to your human sensibilities and pretend to be affronted that I was haunting you without your consent? Will you rage at our witch for withholding truths from you, when withholding is the only talent he’s ever been allowed to hone? Look at him—”
He twists me around again, one hand palming my breast as he keeps me locked against his body. Then he drops his face low to whisper in my ear, still loud enough for the witch to hear. “You think you’re alone? You see now before you the loneliest witch who ever lived.”
Jasper tenses. His hands curl into fists as his shoulders tighten. “Dáinn . . .” he calls in warning.
Smiling, the wraith presses a soft kiss to my temple.
“He didn’t tell you I was haunting your every step because he was protecting you.
Not just your physical safety, sweet Birdie.
He was protecting your fragile human mind, keeping it safe for you, letting the sword fall by degrees so that when the last tethers binding you to your mundane human reality were cut, you wouldn’t be left reeling. ”
He strokes his hand down my throat, lightly pressing his thumb over the mark Jasper just left. “Now look at you,” he croons. “Standing tall, raging like any fury. You heard my truth and didn’t cower for a second. No, you claimed your power and put me on my knees. Our witch prepared you well.”
I feel like I’m about to burst out of my skin. “Please, what do you want from me?”
“We want you to let go of this human restraint,” he rasps. “It hobbles you and keeps you small. We want you to rise, Birdie Rhodes. Take to the sky like the phoenix you are and burn for us.”
God, he’s right. I’ve always kept myself so small.
I follow all the rules and check all the boxes, hiding in plain sight.
That’s how you survive when you’re born from nothing, and the world gives you nothing.
I don’t let myself yearn. I certainly don’t let myself burn.
But there’s a fire inside me and it wants to come out.