Page 21 of Collected By the Crow

“Gather information and return.”

She nodded again. He loathed the dejection in her voice and ground his teeth against the desire to pull her closer.

Cassandra rose slowly. Remembering his soiled pants, he covered his crotch with his arms, still kneeling. Her heart’s rhythm slowed, the scent of her blood settling. He backed away to allow her breathing room, situating his wings around his waist. She cast him a small smile that was a shell of the petite thing she’d gifted him moments ago.

After speeding away to change and returning, he scooped Zero up and held him, petting the scruff of his neck while Cassandra prepared. She packed her case and a small bag. After stopping in the lab to take the pup’s blood and tucking the samples into her case, Qadaire led her to the entry.

“Thanks, Q. I’ll be back in a little while.”

Qadaire set Zero down and nodded curtly. He wanted to reach for her, to bury her in his arms and smooth her sleek black hair. To inhale her, to taste her scent in the air he breathed.

He opened the door and watched her walk away.

Chapter Twelve

Qadaire

The castle was far from quiet. His friends flew through the busted windows, bothering him for details. He shooed them away and retreated to the bedroom.

He sat on the edge of the bed where the covers were slung back and her scent remained. His cock twitched, and on the next inhale, it was stiff as a rod. He could still feel the warmth of her skin under his palms, the softness of her hair. Her wet cunt clenching around him. He turned his head toward the pillow, where her scent was the strongest, and dragged in another shaky breath.

He couldn’t take it. He grabbed the pillow and held it under his nose while undoing his pants and leaning back on one hand. He clung to the fluffy, mouthwatering thing and gripped himself for the first time in ages.

“Cassandra,” he breathed, his fist rising and falling, her scent permeating his senses. Another inhale and he was ready to burst. He leaned forward and spilled his seed all over the floor. The stream lasted longer than he’d expected. To his dismay, his balls filled again the next time he breathed in, still clutching the pillow across his chest.

His cock remained full-staff even after his breathing calmed. All of his senses were heightened, from arousal or his first release in centuries, he wasn’t sure. When the scent of the pillow assaulted him again, he groaned as his cock began to leak without him touching it. He tried to will it down, but it only ached, his sack a heavy burden.

“Nine fucking rings!”

He was forced to palm himself again. At this rate, he would burst the poor human should they ever join. At the mental image of her body leaking thick white come around his cock, he came all over the floor again, the stream as thick and long as the first.

Panting, he moaned into the soft fabric before placing it back at the head of the bed.

Was he so lonely that he’d fall for the first person he spoke to in centuries? What was it about her that had him warbling like a hatchling in love? He had no idea what it meant to love anyone, let alone a human. Now that he knew the magical scent of her desire, the hell-blessed taste of it, how would he refrain from sucking on her greedily every time she was near?

How would he know if she felt the same? Why else would she let him see her unravel like that? Didn’t it mean something that she’d let her guard down for him?

How was he going to face her now?

Desperate for a distraction, he threw himself into their work. Once the chalkboards were covered in white numbers and symbols, new vials were created and tested, and all four of his hands were cramped, he flew out the broken window.

Glowing yellow eyes of nocturnal creatures dappled the forest. The buck was still pulsing through his veins, but a good hunt always brought his spirits up, even if he was only hunting for berries and small creatures for his friends.

The flock was already bedded down. He told one of his plan to forage and arranged a spot to drop what he found. On his hunt, he came across a stunning emerald hair comb studded with expensive jewels and flourishes. It was enchanting and deserved a worthy home. He tucked it in his pocket.

Within a few hours, he’d built a decent stash of crabapples, frogs, bats, fruits, plants. The wicker basket was full when he replaced the lid after his last trip. He flew back through the window, his fangs deep in a frog’s hide, which he tossed out behind his shoulder. He wiped an arm across his mouth and stalked over to the pup, who was curled around himself on a blindingly red armchair. Qadaire scratched behind Zero’s ears with two hands, one resting on the wooden arm of the chair, the other peeling back the pup’s eyelid for insight on his health. There was a prominent red streak leaking from the pupil to the edge of the grayish whites.

“Where is your counterpart, hmm, little one?” He smoothed the pup’s eyelid down and scratched with fervor to make up for his intrusion. “She and I have a date.”

A slobbery tongue flopped from the pup’s mouth. Qadaire stood. He wasn’t keen on the idea of slobber on his feathers.

With nothing else to do and too much pent-up energy, he decided to shower. Other than Wi-Fi—which was maintained by a teenager who was easily glamored—he had set up his own irrigation, plumbing, wind turbine, and the like, so he had all of life’s simple pleasures. He enjoyed the luxuries of modern utilities much more than the primitive ways his old master had lived, even based on modern technologies of the time. Vampires had an interesting way of believing themselves above such things—at least, they used to. He couldn’t speak for it now. Perhaps they were all fat and lazy, sitting at their boxes, watching humans enact plays and such.

It was a large enough bath that, if he didn’t have these blasted wings, it would easily fit him and a guest. With his wings tucked as tightly against himself as possible, he scrubbed his body and wondered about the people Cassandra had been with. His skin was gray, but it hugged his toned body tightly. He worked out regularly during the moments between breakthroughs and board games, and chasing down prey and soaring the skies kept his muscles tight, too. If they weren’t forced together to find a cure, would she think him a worthy partner for a tryst?

He was nothing like her former lovers. He glared down at his stiffening cock, which had awakened the moment he’d thought of her.

The memory of her taste, the way her sweet dew danced on his tastebuds, tore a groan from his throat, followed by a hitched warble. He leaned against the shower wall with his upper fists and gripped his length with his lower right. She’d bathed in this bathroom. Water falling from this very shower head had trickled down her bare body. How lucky those drops were, to follow the smooth curve of her hip, to be trapped between her thighs.

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