CHAPTER TEN
Iflew upright on the couch.
My eyes were wide, and a layer of perspiration clung to my skin. His name was a whisper in my heart. With every frantic beat I heard it. Oliver, Oliver, Oliver. He was wounded—I’d felt it like every flame and stab had gone through both of us.
I hurried into my room and pulled on the first clothes I could find in my closet and shoved my wild hair into a baseball cap.
My entire body was trembling, but even in my panic, I moved carefully and silently through the loft.
Beside the door, I jammed my feet into my tennis shoes and grabbed one of the jackets hanging on the hooks.
Then I was gone, plunging into the shadowy stairwell.
The second I stepped outside, the cool night pressing in all around me, I was running. I started down the path that had formed from all our comings and goings, my shoes pounding on the forest floor. I didn’t need names or maps; I knew exactly where to find Oliver.
When I threw myself into the darkness, my only thought was of him.
On the other side, I found myself in more trees, but a blast of wind hit me—it was about to storm, wherever I was. This seemed to be a common occurrence whenever Oliver was near. Rain pattered against my face. I put the jacket on and ducked my head down, pressing on without hesitation.
Luckily, Oliver had taken shelter near the Door.
I’d only gone a few miles when a barn appeared through the trees.
It was the same one I’d seen through Oliver’s eyes just before he passed out.
I breathed hard as I finally slowed, arching my head back to instinctively take in the details of this place.
It was obvious that it had been abandoned for a long time.
There were two gaping holes in the roof, and the entire structure was sagging like the walls were moments from collapse.
I pulled the door open cautiously, and the handle clacked as I let it go.
I slipped inside, still struggling to get my breathing back to normal.
My shoes squished with rainwater on the dirt floor.
I scanned the barn, reaching up to lower my hood.
My heart drummed in my ears. The space was full of broken stalls and old hay. And there, in the corner …
“Ollie.” I rushed toward him. Oliver’s wings drooped on either side of his limp body, and I stepped over one carefully before I knelt at his side.
He was tucked in a pocket of darkness, but the holes in the roof let in just enough light from the night sky that I could make out faint details.
Oliver must’ve been directly beneath a leak, because rain sluiced down his naked torso, leaving streaks through the blood.
Why couldn’t I find any injuries? I began running my hands over him, trying to remember what I’d seen.
Collith’s blast of fire had hit him, I was sure of it. “Are you okay? Here, let me—”
“I’m fine,” Oliver said, his hands catching hold of my wrists.
It was true. I pulled one hand free and ran my fingertips down the skin where I was certain I’d seen Laurie’s sword go in.
It was smooth, and all that remained of the wound was a smear of blue.
The only visible damage was on Oliver’s wings.
The bones were still rebuilding, the skin and feathers regrowing. It was a miracle he’d been able to fly.
Now that I had confirmed Oliver was all right, it felt like something came loose in my chest. I let out a shuddering breath and looked up. “Do you …”
Whatever I’d been about to say faded as my gaze locked with Oliver’s.
Slowly, the adrenaline coursing through me shifted, becoming something else.
My hand fell, and in the next breath I was pulling away.
I stood up and took several steps back. Oliver got to his feet, too.
Heat and awareness swelled between us. I stared at him, remembering what it had felt like when I’d thought he was dying. When I’d thought I had lost him.
Oliver was having similar thoughts—I could see it in the darkness of his eyes, sense it in the tension radiating off his coiled, hard body as he drew closer and closer.
His arm rose, and he ran his fingertips down the side of my face.
He didn’t speak. I didn’t break the silence, either.
The choice trembled between us. Temptation spread through my core, low and hot.
I knew it was wrong, and twisted, and fucked up in too many ways to count. The thought of touching him should’ve made me shudder. I should’ve been glad at the sight of his blood, my fingers itching to finish the job.
But what I felt most was just … relief. It sighed through my veins and slipped out of my mouth in the faintest of sounds.
As soon as he heard it, Oliver bent his head to kiss me.
Just like last time, our mouths met in a desperate frenzy.
I felt my hat fall off, but I didn’t care.
All I could think was that Collith had been right.
Again. His voice echoed through my head as heat flooded the rest of my body.
You love him, Fortuna. You may not want to admit it, but if you’re going to survive this, you need to.
It felt like my heart was throbbing in time to the pulse between my legs.
I wrapped my arms around Oliver’s neck and kissed him harder, hungrier.
Without breaking away, he lifted me into his arms and walked across the room, setting me on top of a barrel.
A wooden post pressed against my back. It was surprisingly solid, and it held my weight while Oliver pulled my jacket off, along with my shirt, and I unbuttoned his jeans.
The stillness filled with the sound of our panting, and rain dripping down, and the whisper of a zipper.
Then Oliver pressed his hardness between my legs.
Suddenly the yoga pants I’d put on felt very, very thin, and too thick all at once.
Of its own volition, one of my hands stole down and wrapped around Oliver’s length.
It was as well-sized as I remembered, and hard as a rock in my grip.
I bit my lip and closed my eyes. Wrong, wrong, this is wrong.
But why did it also feel so terribly right?
I was still wavering when I felt Oliver’s arm shift. My hand shot back up, and I held onto his shoulder as Oliver’s fingertips crept beneath my waistband. A moment later, he put his finger inside me. I bit my lip and arched my back, pushing myself into him. Oliver made a deep, satisfied sound.
“I love how wet you are,” he said against my ear.
My teeth clamped down on my lip harder. At the same moment Oliver dipped his head and sucked teasingly at my neck, he added a finger, and a helpless sound slipped out of me.
I flattened my palms against his chest and willed myself to push him away, but it felt like something was crying out inside me, begging to give in, to satiate the hot need rising higher and higher.
Then, slowly, my grip unfurled. Barely touching him now, I skimmed my palms over Oliver’s broad shoulders, down the firm planes of his back, and over the curve of his firm ass.
I raised my head and found our mouths a breath apart.
Oliver stared into my eyes as he used his other hand to tug my pants down.
It felt like every touch left a trail of sparks behind.
I barely registered the cool air whispering over my bared skin.
“Tell me you don’t want this,” Oliver said quietly. “Say the words, and I’ll let you go.”
I didn’t move. I didn’t speak. A war raged inside me.
The cold urge to throw the words in his face, and make the choice that I knew was right …
and the hot, roaring desire that didn’t give a fuck about any of it beyond this, the crackling power between us and the low, tingling heat of need.
Rain splattered onto my face, and I hardly felt that, either.
I met Oliver’s gaze again, and I didn’t look away as I used my hold on his backside to urge him inside me. He answered with a single plunge, filling me completely, and I released another involuntary, breathy moan.
Oliver caught the sound in his mouth. He went still again, pressing his forehead to mine, his hard length buried to the hilt. I clenched around him, impatient.
“Fuck, Fortuna …” Oliver whispered my name as he worshipped me with his mouth and his hands. I worshipped him right back. It felt so good, finally being able to touch him in a way I’d been resisting all this time. I wanted more.
Once I was throbbing so urgently I was on the verge of begging him to keep going, Oliver’s hips began to thrust in a sensuous rhythm, moving in a deep, torturous, taunting escalation.
Every brush sent ripples through the rest of my body, building heat and urgency—until Oliver was fucking me hard and fast, still holding me in his arms as if I weighed nothing.
I reached over my head, fumbling for a handhold.
My other hand was tangled in Oliver’s hair, almost fisting it.
He filled me up, again and again, just barely scraping against the most sensitive part of my body.
Past the pleasure and the blinding bursts of heat, some part of me knew there would be consequences to this.
As we consumed each other, I heard Oliver’s voice in my head, echoes from a memory of two people who no longer existed.
Over the years, I’ve wondered why any species bothers to love the stars.
They burn so briefly, then fade so permanently.
Is the bliss and the beauty worth the absence and the sorrow?
Once, I didn’t think it was worth it. All the agony of loss, just for a moment of happiness. But as I reached the peak of my pleasure, I knew that had changed. Now I couldn’t deny that I was willing to endure the greatest pain for this fleeting moment of ecstasy. With him. With Oliver.
We would both pay, and it was worth it.